#can we collectively please ignore the fact that i imported the hand and hat from my last painting? please? its late okay i needed sleep-

[cyrafoam]

so. um-

*leaves this on the table and runs away*

[paralleledmediaexperience]

a part 2 to this ficlet as requested by @xanthomonus in the notes! I’ve got at least one more part conceptualized (no way you can guess what’ll happen there) though i may extend it or add more, so if anyone would like to be tagged let me know!! 

- 

 Sam is insistent that they try to research ways to get Cas back. Jack has explained that Amara won’t fail- it is simply the process of extracting an Angel from the Empty that takes time, since she didn’t want to wake or anger it like… well, like what Jack had done. He could feel Amara’s sincerity in a way that he was certain Sam and Dean wouldn’t understand, let alone be comforted by. She’d been in his head, crossed with his soul in the transfer of power. He’s kind of sure that if he hadn’t missed Cas so much too, she probably would have ignored Dean’s request altogether.

But it makes Sam look less frazzled when he’s able to lose himself in the research for something, and Jack doesn’t mind sitting with him and pretending he’s not hiding chapter books behind the large tomes. He’s been working his way steadily through some books Sam had collected for him last time they had been out shopping, and while he had enjoyed the first one (a mystery about siblings called the Boxcar children even though they no longer lived in a boxcar) he’d chosen Matilda next, because she sounded nice. And he was right! Matilda was his new favorite, even more than his last favorite, which had been Where the Wild Things Are.

He doesn’t even notice when Dean walks in, because Matilda had just glued a hat to her father’s head, but he does when Sam says, “What, none for me?”

“You’re a grown man, Sammy, you can make your own food. He’s four years old with a foot injury.” Dean says, scowling at Sam. The effect is rather ruined by both Dean’s flour dusted apron and the plate in his hands, and Jack smiles when he turns back to him instead. “You both missed lunch.”

Sam grumbles, but gets up anyway, stretching. “If you didn’t make me food how could I have missed it?”

“Shut up,” Dean shoots back half-heartedly. “Here, Jack, and don’t let him steal off your plate just because he got distracted reading.”

“Thanks, Dean!” Jack says brightly, moving his secret reading setup to the table instead of his lap and pushing it away, ignoring the way Sam’s eyebrows raise when he notices his no longer hidden book. Dean sets the plate down and ignores that Sam sends him one last annoyed face before heading off to the kitchen, where Jack knows there is going to be a plate ready for Sam, or at least a serving of the macaroni and cheese sprinkled with bacon bits and breadcrumbs that Dean’s brought him. “Are you making something else?”

“Just some bread,” Dean grimaces down at the mess of flour across his front, and Jack has to contain his giggles when the movement reveals a streak of flour in Dean’s hair. 

“Just some bread,” Sam echoes, swinging back through the door with his own plate of macaroni. “Dean. Do I need to remind you that we need vegetables and can’t live off of carbs and meat alone?”

“It’s macaroni, Sam, quit whining and just enjoy it,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I swear, you’re the pickiest-”

“It’s not being picky, it’s eating healthy-”

“Same difference!” Dean insists, his twitching lips betraying the irritation in his voice.

“Just one meal with something green a day, Dean, I’m begging you.” 

Eyes flicking back and forth as they snipe at each other, Jack takes an appreciative bite of the macaroni. Expectedly delicious, because Dean made it and Dean didn't make bad food the way Sam sometimes did. Mostly.

“Then beg,” Dean proclaims stubbornly, eyes narrowed. Sam doesn’t respond, his own expression pinching up into very familiar exasperation. 

“Actually, I’ve never had brussel sprouts before, and Claire said I should try them!” Jack interjects. He isn’t sure what a brussel sprout is beyond a vegetable, but Claire had said he’d like them and that he should bother Dean into making them. 

Dean looks unimpressed though, gaze switching from Sam back to meet Jack’s eyes. “You want me to make you brussel sprouts?”

“Please?” Jack tries, unsure if Dean thinks there is something wrong with brussel sprouts or if he is still simply offended by the concept of vegetables.

The please works, Dean’s capitulation coming in the form of a displeased huff and an, “Alright, fine.” He swings back around to point at Sam accusingly. “I’m blaming you for this.”

“As long as we get something from each of the five food groups, sure,” Sam says, taking his seat again. “And no, you don’t get to use tomatoes as the catch all.”

“Fine,” Dean bites out again, clapping Jack on the shoulder as he starts to turn away.

“Thank you Dean! Love you!” Jack says, and he hears Sam’s quick inhale just as he sees Dean almost stumble and he smiles to himself.

“Love you too, kid,” Dean manages to get out, hand squeezing just a bit tighter on his shoulder. “Alright, go back to your books, I have to go to the store for brussel sprouts apparently.”

The speed at which Dean walks away couldn’t be called running away but Jack definitely thinks it qualifies as retreating, and he straightens up a bit, very proud of himself for receiving his second ‘love you’ from Dean in twice as many days. He watches Dean get out the door before turning back around in his seat.

Sam is staring at him with a blinking mixture of incredulity and open affection, the smile on his face wide, if confused. “That’s… new?” 

“Yep,” Jack confirms, pulling Matilda back towards himself and abandoning the pretense of reading the book Sam had suggested he search through. Sam had already searched it himself twice. He doesn’t manage to open it, because Sam continues.

“And I don’t need to check that it’s actually Dean?” Sam teases, bewilderment clear and pride clearer. “Saying yes to vegetables AND and I love you?”

“It turns out,” A voice whipcracks out, startling them both, “That Dean Winchester is actually a big old softie at heart. Who knew?”

“Balthazar?” Sam says, and Jack almost gets bowled over by the wave of shock. Balthazar? He knew that name. He stares openly, unheeded as Balthazar talks to Sam.

“Well, except Castiel, of course, but that Profound Bond of theirs hardly makes it fair,” The angel says, stepping forward. “Yes, Sam, I’ve been hand delivered back from the dead, at the temporary cost of my Grace. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Your grace?” Jack asks, curious about how Sam had been looking at him, but unwilling to turn around and take his eyes off of the angel Cas had once killed. “What do you mean?”

“Ah,” Balthazar strides over, and before Jack can say anything he’s got him clasped by both shoulders, staring into his eyes with a curiosity so intense Jack almost steps back towards the table. “And you’re Jack, I assume? I was warned that there would be no murdering of nephilim if I returned.”

“So Amara freed you?” Sam cuts in, and Jack huffs out a small breath as Balthazar lets him go to spin back around and face him. “Did she have a reason?”

Jack doesn’t voice his own question, which feels far more important. He wants to know when Cas will be back.

“Uh, yes?” Balthazar sneers. “Most of the angels are dead, Sam, no thanks to you and your brother and my brother. I’ll admit some of us deserved it- were rather asking for it, if you ask me- but it did leave dear aunty with rather less personnel than she wants to run heaven with.”

“She’s not grabbing all the angels, is she?” Jack breathes, terrified suddenly, despite Balthazar’s assurance that Amara had apparently set him off limits. 

“Not a chance. Seemed to have a list in mind, and I think I was simply the first she found. I thought perhaps…” He trails off, just for a split second before he grins again, bright and covering up anything he might have been about to show. “Well, I didn’t, actually. Rather hard to do when you’re sleeping in eternal torment.”

Jack catches Sam’s flinch, and frowns at the other man. “Are you sure you were the first?”

Balthazar ticks his head to one side, considering. “Well, I’m the first to show up here, I’ll assume by your reactions, and given that she’s bringing us back graceless, I imagine any others will also be sent here.”

Jack scowls. If so, then Cas may be further off than he hoped. But this was- conclusive proof. Amara could do it, and now they would just have to deal with powerless angels until she came back and dealt with them herself. And Cas would be home.

Sam sighs, deep and weary and cheerless. “Yeah. That would make sense. Well, we can put this away, then.” He closes the book on the table with a hefty thump and then stacks Jack’s abandoned tome on top of it. “And I suppose we should try to make sure we have rooms ready. Jack, would you-”

“I’ll call Dean and let him know,” Jack says, suddenly tired and wanting to get away from Balthazar, still staring at him hawkishly, wanting to be away from the library, where more angels could show up without warning. He wants to hide in his room or possibly Cas’ until Amara brings him back and takes all the others back to heaven or whatever she planned to do. He wishes viciously in his head that he hadn’t opened his mouth about brussel sprouts and that Dean was still here in the kitchen where Jack could escape to without feeling alone. As it is, he grabs Matilda and his plate, still half full of macaroni, ready to walk away, but he catches Balthazar’s face again.

“You’re hungry,” Jack realizes as he says it. Balthazar has a facial journey of his own to deal with that fact before he grimaces.

“Human,” he says, displeasure and embarrassment warring on his features, even as his stomach growls.

Jack doesn’t want Balthazar here, he doesn’t want Amara to try to find anyone but Cas, or at least to find Cas first, and he most definitely doesn’t want to share his food that Dean made him, or Dean and Sam’s attention in general, and he swallows all of this down and he says, “Here. If you’ve never been human before, you’ve never really tasted food, right? Dean’s always makes the best food.”

He holds out the plate and drops it into Balthazar’s hands and tries his best not to stomp out like a real child, or run out like he’s scared, but he makes it around the corner and leans against the wall, out of sight.

Except that Sam immediately pokes his head around, following him. “Jack?”

“I don’t like this,” Jack says plainly, staring up at Sam like maybe he could explain why all of the good feelings he’d been having had shriveled up in his stomach and refused to leave, even though Sam clearly didn’t think Balthazar was an actual threat to them.

“I could tell,” Sam says, almost teasing again, but he drops it immediately. “Is it okay, Jack? Because we can absolutely just send him and any others that show up to the nearest motel instead.”

“No,” He says immediately, but he pauses after, thinking. He takes a deep breath in, trying to ease the odd tightness inside his chest.  “No. They can stay here until Amara gets back. I just…” 

“Don’t like it,” Sam nods, as if that explains it, and Jack guesses it does. “Well, Dean won’t like it either, so you can let him know that the two of you are free to hole up wherever you’d like to get away from them, and I’ll try to deal with them myself as much as I can.”

The tightness in his chest does soften, another breath rushing out like he’d been holding it. “Thanks, Sam.” 

“You know I love you too, Jack,” Sam says, earnest and open and Jack barely makes the decision to hug him but he ends up wrapped up in Sam’s arms anyhow.

“I do. I know. Love you, Sam,” Jack says, fixing his grip on Matilda as he pulls away. “Okay, I need to go call Dean, because if he leaves the store before-”

“He won’t want to turn around, yeah,” Sam laughs.

Jack can’t help the smile that bursts across his face. “Well, I can’t use it too often, or it might not work anymore, but maybe if I say please.”

[night-eagle-flight]

Hidden Gem Chapter 1

Some characters may be a tad OC but I tried to keep them close to their personalities. Connor will be in this story but he won’t appear for a short sec. Hope you guys enjoy! 

You had spent the day wandering the street of New York, carefully avoiding the puddles that were left behind from the recent rain. Your pale (F/C) dress flowed as your pace quickened to get home.

“My lady,” said one of the guards as you arrived outside the gated home, “Master Haytham is waiting for you in his quarters.”

You nodded and thanked him as you rushed inside. The house was an average size and the décor made you cringe slightly due to it collecting some dust over a couple of days. Once you arrived to a highly decorated door, you took a deep breath and knocked.

“Come in.”

You opened the door carefully and closed it behind you as you made your way to Haytham.

“Did you enjoy your stroll my dear?” Haytham asked from his freshly polished desk.

“I did.” You spoke softly. “This city is very different from Boston.”

Haytham looked up, “You don’t seem too happy about this move.”

You remained silent causing Haytham to let out a hard sigh, “I understand that leaving Boston was hard,” He stood up and walked towards you placing a finger gently under your chin to make you look at him, “but this will be good for you.”

He showed a small tenderness in his eyes for a split second then leaned to kiss your forehead, “I have done my best to care for you since I found you. You were lost remember?”

Your eyes prickled, “And I thank you everyday for taking me in. If it not been for you I... I probably wouldn’t have survived on my own.”

“I have seen you grow into a fine young woman and I consider you my own.” Haytham stepped away and went back to sit down on his chair, “Which is why I wanted to make sure your future was assured.”

One of your eyebrows raised slightly, “What do you mean by that exactly?”

Haytham intertwined his fingers as he leaned forward on his desk and spoke, “I have arranged for someone to take your hand in marriage.”

Your eyes widened and you dared to not speak less you wanted to anger him. Talking back was something you learned early on never to do.

“He is a good man. One of my subordinates in fact.” He smiled proudly.

You swallowed the knot in your throat but still felt it constricting, “May I ask who it is I am marrying?” Internally your mind yelling, “Please not Lee or Hickey. Please!”

“Now why would I want to spoil the surprise?” He said coyly, “I am sure you can wait a day to find out. He is coming here to meet you, after all this is his home.”

You felt the color on your face drain slightly and quickly bowed your head, “I-I look forward to meeting him.”

Haytham decided to ignore your distaste of the plans that were made and instead stacked his paperwork and stood up once again, this time taking hold of his tricorn hat.      

“Let’s head out for a shop to pick out a new dress for you.”

“But this one is my favorite dress.” You thought but opted to say, “It has been a while since you joined me to shop.”

“This is important.” Haytham said matter of factly. He walked passed you and you followed, “Things must go smoothly.”

A carriage was brought out for the both of you and soon you were sitting in comfortable silence.

“(Y/N).”

You looked at Haytham as he spoke, “You must be at your best behavior for this.”

“I will.” You said feeling yourself adjust to sit up properly.

Etiquette. Rules. Order. That’s all you’ve ever known since the day Haytham saved you from starvation as a child. You wanted to speak out from time to time but to go against him made a tinge of guilt rise. He had given you so much and you felt that you owed him your obedience. He could have easily left you in that filthy alley or an orphanage.    

“No need to look so grim.”

You snapped out of your daze and smiled, “I apologize. I was only lost in thought.”

Haytham looked out the window for a second, “How would you like to get some chocolate after we pick out your dress. It has been a while since we have treated ourselves.”

You smiled with a matching eagerness on your face, “I would love that.”

Once both of you arrived to the dress shop, you knew you wouldn’t be the one to pick out your dress.

“How about this one?” You asked Haytham.

“I forbid you from showing any ankles, elbows, and.... ABSOLUTELY not that!” Haytham encircled your waist and pulled you away from the newest trend of low cut dresses, “You are a respectable young lady and are to dress like one.”

You sighed in slight annoyance.

“Do not start with that tone again.” His serious tone making your eyes widen and stop immediately.

You bowed your head and spoke softly, “I am sorry. Please. Tell me what you believe is appropriate for me to wear for my husband to be?”

Haytham stared you down, “Look at me when you say that.”

You felt your anger rise but it faltered when you looked at Haytham’s eyes, “I.... I am sorry. P-”

“What are you sorry for?” Haytham asked abruptly.

You felt embarrassed as people began to talk and snicker. You once again swallowed that knot that was forming in your throat, stood tall, looked Haytham in the eyes, and spoke with a bit more firmness, “I am sorry for being ill behaved. Please, tell me what it is that I should wear to meet my husband to be.”

“Better.” Haytham stated as he grabbed a dress that was next to him, “This one here will do.”

Your hand touched the red skirt and your fingers slid over the black embroidery design. A large black bow decorated the back alongside the red straps that crisscrossed towards the top of the dress.

Haytham didn’t wait for your reply and soon you were in the carriage again headed for a small confections shop.

“Thank you for the dress.” You said attempting to break the silence.

“We will be going over how you will act when your fiance arrives once we get home.” He looked at you, “A wife must keep the standards of the house hold and please her husband.”

“I understand.”

“Once we arrive for some confections, I expect you to pick out a proper gift for him.” Haytham at last smiled a bit, “Chocolate helps ease tension wouldn’t you say my dear?”

You put on a fake proper smile, “Yes it does.”

You didn’t think picking out chocolate confections would be hard but you should have known better. Especially with Haytham’s standards.

“That’s too small dear, pick something else.” He said the first time.

“The wrapping is all wrong on this one.” He said the second time.

“Well this looks good enough for a pig.” He said a third time.

You held in your sigh because you knew what he wanted you to ask.

“Can you please help me pick out a gift?” You asked while mentally saying, “Why did you want me to pick if you were going to pick in the first place.”

Haytham smiled and beckoned you to follow, “I believe this would be appropriate.”

You had to admit that the craft of it was impeccable, “I am surprised they managed to make a ship out of chocolate.”

“Yes.” He said beckoning the shop owner, “It’s very similar to the ship he captains.”

Once the purchases were made you both headed back home where it was lesson after lesson about wife etiquette into the early hours of the night for you. Most were things you already knew but at this point it was like they were only trying to drill it further so it became second nature.

As you were brushing your hair in front of a small vanity you saw the dress in the mirror. Slowly you glared at it but the anger slowly dissipated to sorrow. Small tears began to prick in your eyes but your quickly rubbed them away when there was a firm knock on your door.

Haytham strolled in and sat on your bed as he stared at you from your mirror.

“Was there something I missed?” You asked as you turned around to meet his gaze.

“Nothing. Just remembering when you were a child, is all.” He stood up and walked before you, taking the brush from your hands and turning you so he could brush your hair.

Your shock didn’t go unnoticed as you heard a quiet chuckle, “Just remembering old times my dear.”

It remained quiet for a second as Haytham finished brushing your hair. You noticed him pulling something out of his pocket and begin to put it around your neck.

“This necklace was a gift sent ahead of time before your fiance’s arrival.” He placed the clasp and stepped back, “He knows it is you he will marry once he sees it.”

You placed a hand over it, “I’ll thank him properly when I see him.”

Haytham nodded, “Then I bid you goodnight. Rest well.”

“Goodnight.” You said.

When you heard the door click you looked down at the red cross at the end of the necklace. It didn’t take long to realize it was similar to the one Haytham had on his ring since the day you met. You decided to go to bed wearing it so you wouldn’t forget to put it on in the morning, but sleep seemed to evade you for that night. It couldn’t be helped when the tears started rolling down your eyes.

[ramblingkat]

The Undead

So, this is months late, but I don’t care. Have some more Monstrous May. This is for day 9: The Undead

Fandom: Bleach

***

The time was finally here.

He looked at Aizen, who was watching all of them. Not from the spot they all thought, but that was fine. Kisuke knew the man was probably so smug that he had tricked them.

Kisuke was better attuned to track the man any way.

Though it appeared that Ichigo was also confused. He was glancing at Aizen, and then around as if trying to figure out what was going on.

The plan had been to wait, let Isshin and Yoruichi battle him and wear him down.

But the pulse of revengerevengerevenge was beating too strongly in Kisuke’s chest. Just as it has been since he had woken up on the floor of his cell, covered in vomit and aware that something was Wrong.

Not that it had been something he could focus on at the time. He had more important things to do, and his guards didn’t seem to notice anything off. They had only washed him off to take him to his trial. Which had gone poorly and he had more important things to deal with other than what was wrong with him.

Over the years, he had done his research. It had to be careful, because if the others had figured out what he was researching, he would have worried them.

He was going to hurt them in the end. Better to let them have the good memories now.

For years, Kisuke had managed to keep his secret, safe and quiet in his chest. It beat there along with the urge to murder, to take his revenge on the man who had taken everything from him.

So now that he saw him, the urge to do just that was too strong to ignore.

Kisuke blurted, pushing himself to the extreme. There was screams and yells as he landed, people torn between moving to help and  scattering as something large landed from the sky.

He looked down at the frightened eyes of Hinomori. Everything told him that it was the sad little lieutenant of the 5th looking up at him.

But in his core, the force that drove him, that wanted to finish that revenge, it knew who was pinned under him. That was not some simple sense, able to be tricked by someone else’s magic. This was a primal force of magic, something that warped the very laws of reality to enable the weapons it created.

With a snarl, Kisuke leaned down and ripped Aizen’s throat out with his teeth.

A zanpakuto drove into his back, but Kisuke ignored it. That wasn’t important at this point. No, what was important was the blood in his mouth, Aizen’s blood. The way the other flailed, his illusions starting to fail as he bled.

Rearing his head back, Kisuke spit the mouthful of flesh and blood to the side. Then he curled in, mouth dropping lower.

The taste of the Hogyoku on his tongue was a sizzle of power, vision whiting out for a moment as he knocked aside the hands that tried to push his head away. Then Kisuke

Bit.

Down.

The Hogyoku, along with the flesh that surrounded it, came away in his mouth. Instinct drove him, and Kisuke swallowed. It hurt as he did as if he was swallowing a lump of hot coal, drinking something of flame and pain.

Under him, Aizen screamed as best he could through a mangled throat. The man’s skin was not knitting together, not smoothing back into perfect flesh.

In Kisuke, the Hogyoku flared, and he screamed in pain as the two powers in his chest battled.

The blade in his back vanished, and he hoped it was from the person wielding it pulling it free, not him destroying it by accident. That would have been rude. Even if they had stabbed him first.

Under his hands, Aizen was dying. Kisuke lifted his head, still crouched over the man, looking down at him.

“You shouldn’t have killed me,” he said with a snarling smile. “This, you brought down on yourself.”

Aizen’s eyes were full of confusion and fear. The man who would be god was confused and scared of death.

Good.

Kisuke watched as the life in the man’s eyes flickered and faded. Eventually, it was gone completely.

Still, he watched. Long enough to know for sure.

Then he sat up and screamed all his anger out.

He had avenged his own death. It tasted sweet.

Turning his head, he found himself looking into Rangiku’s eyes.

“Tell them I am sorry,” he said.

Then the force that had kept him moving for the last century spluttered out, and Kisuke fell.

***

Ichigo wasn’t sure what was going on. Not really. He had come out and struck Aizen, only to have him pretty much laugh as Zangetsu had bounced off his kido ward. Then a lot of stuff happened, and it wasn’t Aizen looking down at them anyone, it was Hinomori.

Then Urahara popped up and everything went mad.

He watched as the man appeared from nowhere and Ichigo could only barely track the flash step that he used to slam into where Aizen was on the ground. Then….

Ichigo had to glance away. That was…ew. He had not expected Urahara to use his teeth like that. It made his stomach squirm in a way that was distinctly uncomfortable.

He glanced back as the blond screamed. Uncertain on what was going on, Ichigo glanced around at everyone. They all seemed to be confused. Especially Rangiku, who….

Had she stabbed Urahara?

That that it seemed to bother the man. He sat up, half sitting on Aizen’s legs, half crouched over the man. His face was covered with blood, hat nowhere to be found. The man looked wild, a smile that was all teeth clear even from where Ichigo was. Then Kisuke had said something to Rangiku and….slumped.

As if everything had suddenly turned off, Urahara went limp, eyes still half-open as he hit the ground.

Ichigo had never moved so fast in his life.

He slid to a stop, just as Yoruichi joined him. And…his dad?

Who was in a Shinigami uniform?

What?

Ichigo’s head was reeling as he was trying to take everything in. Urahara limp as Yoruichi and his dad starting working on them. A moment later, Shinji was there with Hiyori in his arms.

“What the fuck,” said the older Visored, staring down at Urahara as if he had never seen the man before. Which Ichigo could understand.

Urahara was always in control of things. Even when he was being a brat, teasing Ichigo while training him, Ichigo knew the man had a plan for things. There was always vibrant energy around him, something that crackled and raged.

Ichigo had always thought it was Benihime, given the way Kisuke talked about her.

Seeing him like this, so very still and…empty…..

Was Urahara dead?

Then Unohana was there, and she shoved all of them aside. “Clear the area,” she told them, voice harsh. “If he wakes up, none of you will be safe. Not at first.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Ichigo found himself being pushed back with the others. When Unohana decided something, nobody wanted to argue with him.

“What is going on?” he hissed at Shinji.

The other man frowned, focus obviously inwards. Then he frowned more. “Later, Ichigo. I got an idea, but if it’s the case, ya don’t want to be there if Kisuke wakes up.”

He nudged Ichigo, then flat out shoved him at Isshin. Who caught Ichigo and the world blurred around them.

Okay, if he couldn't get answers about Urahara then he’d get them about Isshin, and what the hell was going on around here.

***

Waking up was…unexpected. From everything he researched, once he had gotten his revenge, Kisuke was supposed to return to being dead once again. Not waking up in what appeared to be the Shoten.

“Well, you are calmer than I had imagined you would have been,” came a familiar voice, if not what he normally heard in his territory. He glanced to the side and saw that Unohana was sitting beside him, her Zanpakuto sheathed at her side.

Not that her weapon being there would have stopped her from putting him down if she needed to. Kisuke had seen her use Kido.

“I hadn’t expected to wake up at all,” he admitted, carefully sitting up. Careful for two reasons. First, he didn’t know what to expect from his body. It ached, but less like he had hurt himself, more like he had just had a long spar.

Second reason to be careful was that he had no idea how Unohana would react to him moving. She was one of those from before the system was put together. Who knew what was roaming around before the Shinigami organized and became the force they were now.

And revenants were frightfully close to Hollows.

Unohana smiled slightly. “It has been known to happen. If one of your kind takes in a new power source before the one pushing for revenge fades, it can replace it.” She tilted her head. “I would stay silent about what it was you once were. Only a few of us recognized what you had become, but we also know you did us a great service in dealing with Aizen.”

She studied him, eyes cool and collected, a hint of violence in the depths.

In a way, it was nice to get her respect enough that she’d allow him to see the latter.

“We should spar at some point, Urahara-san. I believe it would be most entertaining.”

Okay, getting her respect was also a lot terrifying.

“Please make the most of your second chance,” the woman added, standing gracefully. “If you wish, contact me at some point and I would be happy to help tell you about some of the talents you are likely to see as you age. Those such as you are very rare, and not much is written.”

Then she smiled, one that was actually tinged with humor instead of being terrifying. “Though I think it will be fun to watch as you have to explain to your friends about what it is that you are.”

Definitely a lot of terrifying having her focus. How did Kenpachi deal with it all the time?

***

Kisuke had debated how he should do this. First, he grabbed Tessai and Yoruichi. They deserved to know, more than anymore.

Plus, with just the two of them, neither of the others would feel like they had to hide their reactions. Which meant he was crushed in hugs and wept on a bit.

Yoruichi would blame Tessai for the tears, but both of them had been upset when they discovered the truth.

The fact they had almost lost him for good had hurt both of his friends, and they had reacted poorly to that.

Which meant this second talk had been delayed a bit. Kisuke could still feel his friends lurking around, which was expected. Knowing them, he was going to have them hover over him for a bit.

That made him smile a little. It was always good to know they cared.

Now Shinji and Ichigo sat in front of him.

He had debated on it but finally decided that he should tell them. Shinji was his closest friend outside of Tessai and Yoruichi, and in charge of the Visored.

And Ichigo just deserved to know the truth for once. Kisuke had already heard that Isshin had clammed up over telling the boy anything on his own past.

They had to meet in his bedroom, however. Tessai had looked rather terrifying at the idea of Kisuke leaving his bed too soon. So that meant he was sitting on his futon, sipping his tea as the others settled.

“I take it ya are goin’ to tell us about what the fuck all that was,” Shinji said easily, holding his own cup. Beside him, Ichigo was scowling more than normal, eyes flicking over Kisuke repeatedly as if to make sure the other wasn’t hiding injuries.

It was so adorable. Ichigo had brought Kisuke into the circle of those people who he considered his to protect.

Kisuke decided to be blunt for once.

“I’m dead,” he said calmly. “I’ve been dead, properly dead, for about a century.” He watched with a hint of amusement as Shinji choked on his tea.

“What?” Ichigo was staring at him, jaw dropped a bit as he tried to puzzle that out. “Aren’t you technically dead anyway?”

Kisuke shook his head. “I am a soul. As you know, that means I can be killed and returned to the cycle to be reborn later.”

Given Ichigo’s expression, he may not have known that. Kisuke added it to the list of things to start teaching Ichigo more about. If he was going to be dealing with Soul Society long-term, he needed a better idea of what it contained.

“When I was jailed, before the farce of a trial, I believe Aizen arranged for me to be poisoned.” He watched the pair of them, Shinji’s color slowly draining.

“He what?” the Visored hissed. Taking another sip of his tea, Kisuke answered.

“He arranged for my death. The reason I know it was him was that I…woke up, and all I could think was revenge upon my murderer.”

Shinji made a noise of recognition. “Y’re a revenant,” he said, tone dark. He studied Kisuke, frowning a bit. “How are you still movin?”

“Wait, he’s a what?” Ichigo glanced from one blond to the other, agitation and confusion clear on his face as he fidgeted. The teen looked like he wanted to fight something, even if he wasn’t sure what he should be fighting.

“A revenant,” Kisuke said slowly, “is an undead who rises to get revenge. They wake up from their death and begin to hunt. My ability to do so was limited, so I had a great deal more control over myself than some I have read about. They are…uncommon, and I have not been able to find out many details on them. Unohana-taicho has helped fill in some details for me.”

That got a snort from Shinji. “Yeah, she’d know about them.”

Ichigo went very quiet, very pale.

“You died?” he asked in a tiny voice. Kisuke looked at him, the boy’s eyes were wide, and there was something there that hinted he might tear up in a moment.

It was rather like looking at Yoruichi when she found out.

He had not realized that the other had become so attached to him.

“Twice,” Kisuke said softly. “Once when I died originally. Then a second once I completed my revenge. But my revenge is what also brought me back a second time.” He pressed a hand to his chest, where there was something new beating there. No longer was the whisper of revenge taking the place of a beating heart, warning his skin and keeping his mind sharp and limbs flexible.

“Part of killing Aizen, of getting my revenge, was removing the Hogyoku from him. In doing so, I consumed it. So when the need for revenge was over, with that driving force gone, the Hogyoku took its place.”

He looked at the pair of them. “So, it seems that I am dead, yet alive. So you shall have to deal with me for a time to come.”

Shinji scoffed, but Kisuke could see the relief in his friend’s eyes.

Ichigo looked even more relieved, uncertain.

Kisuke did what he would have done for Jinta or Ururu, and held his arms open, a silent offer.

One Ichigo took, slamming into Kisuke’s chest and hugging him tightly. Shinji moved as well, shifting so he was leaning against Kisuke’s shoulder, patting Ichigo’s back to help soothe him.

Poor boy. He must have been so stressed out for so long. Kisuke would have to take some of that from his shoulders.

They would talk more later. Right now, he just hugged Ichigo back, grateful for the chance to continue his undead life.

[alderoo]

Veteran’s Lament

Okay, I’m back and this time posting a fic in a little bit of a different format. It’s been up on A03 for awhile now so I’ll link it below in a little bit.

Hyrule Warriors brainrot Hyrule Warriors brainrot-

Lol this was for the October Exchange on the LU Discord!

Description: Legend has a nightmare. Warriors talks to him. As it turns out, Warriors knows exactly who Legend’s ‘dream girl’ is.

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329764

Legend woke up crying, from another dream about the world that he had left behind. There was yet another fleeting moment of hope that this time he’d be able to stay there for good, no matter how much he told himself that it wouldn’t be possible. Because they were all dead. 

He hid himself under the covers of his bedroll, praying that whoever was on watch would just ignore him and his plights. But, of course he started to hear footsteps coming towards him. He had the hero’s spirit himself, he knew that he’d do the same thing to any of the other heroes if they were having an issue. Except the main problem was the pattern of steps that approached. Warriors. 

As the footsteps grew closer, Legend could feel himself getting more and more tense. He didn’t want to talk with anybody. Especially not the pretty boy. So when Warriors sat near him, all Legend did in response was turn over and try to fall back asleep. 

“Go away, pretty boy,” Legend growled from underneath the blankets. Warriors didn’t seem bothered by this, at least from what Legend could tell. But, of course, Legend was blocking anything from his vision at the moment. 

“Nightmare?” The captain asked, voice gentler than Legend had ever heard. It seemed like a tone of voice he’d use for the sailor. Legend cringed at it. 

“What’s it to you?” He answered, annoyance practically dripping from his voice. Warriors only sighed. 

“I just want to help,” The captain insisted, shifting slightly. “Contrary to popular belief I don’t hate you, vet,”

Legend hummed in response, not bothering to move. After a few more minutes of lying there, Legend finally accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be getting a lick of sleep for a while. So, he sat up, shivering at the night air, then silently walked over to the fire, Warriors following with uncertainty. 

The veteran hummed at the warmth of the fire, but flinched when the captain returned to his spot. Legend prayed to whatever goddess was watching that Warriors wouldn’t press the issue. The veteran had a reputation to uphold, after all. If they found out that he was hurting, they’d try to help, and he knew that he would get attached. Then they’d learn who he really was. A weakling. 

“I’m not going to let you suffer in silence, Legend,” Warriors stated bluntly, distracting Legend from his thoughts. Legend curled in on himself further, unable to look the captain in the eyes. “If there’s anything at all I can do, please tell me. I don’t like seeing anyone get lost in their head like that,”

“It was nothing, War. Just a dream,” Legend said, trying to put an end to further questioning, but that statement seemed to pique the captain’s curiosity even further.

“So not a nightmare. What was the problem then?” 

“I didn’t wanna wake up,” 

Warriors shut his mouth with an audible click, processing Legend’s precious words carefully. It reminded him of something, no, it reminded him of someone. Then it all made sense. He had seen the nights that Marin woke up crying in another tent, the way that she rubbed her eyes and insisted that it was nothing more than a dream. Until it wasn’t.

During the war, Warriors and Marin had become acquainted, and it was the captain’s job to make sure that his fighters were in their best shape, especially the powerful ones that had been brought from their worlds. Warriors remembered how one night he held the Skull Kid in his arms, sobbing about a nightmare of Majora taking his body again. And another night, but that time he had accidentally caught Midna staring at the sunset, hearing her mutter about the glowing skies of Twilight.

And most importantly, he remembered when he asked Marin about her dreams after a particularly rough battle. The songstress had been injured, a product of her own distractions. So she told him what had happened. How a boy in green came to her island. How he was perfectly imperfect, how he was her dream. 

Warriors snapped back to reality when he realized that Legend was staring at him. The captain sighed, and sat down near the veteran, ignoring the wide-eyed glance sent his way. 

“I met a girl during the war, you know,” Warriors started, drawing in a shaky breath. “She was beautiful, and she was dropped right off through a portal from her home. She had no experience fighting, but insisted that we let her help with the efforts, having heard tales of a beast named Ganon,” 

Legend listened intently, an inkling of feeling dripping through his cracked mask as a tear slid down his face. Warriors took off his scarf, and wrapped it around him.

“She was powerful. She knew songs that brought someone hope and joy, and she fought with a bell at her side, calling on a deity to help her in battle. We became friends, just like I had with everyone else from different eras. There was one night, though, I woke to crying from a nearby tent, and it was her. She didn’t elaborate past saying that it was just a dream,” Warriors paused, collecting himself before continuing. “The next day, she got hurt in battle. Got distracted, and didn’t dodge quick enough from a moblin’s swing. Broke her arm pretty badly,”

“I went to see how she was, and I asked her what was wrong, and she told me. She told me where she came from, a place called Koholint. Then she told me of a boy in green, with a hat like mine that washed up on her shores. How she found him and rescued him, and how they fell in love,” Legend was a few words away from the dam behind his eyes would break, so Warriors continued, keeping a comforting arm around Legend. “She said if I ever met him, to tell him something important,”

“Marin doesn’t blame you for what happened, Legend. She loved you. She still does. Please stop beating yourself up over it. You’re allowed to feel sad, to feel regret and to grieve for her. But that shouldn’t stop you from remembering a few happy times,”

After Warriors finished relaying the message, Legend let his face fall into his hands, and he leaned into Warriors’ stomach, clutching his tunic like a lifeline. The captain let it happen, wrapping his arms around Legend in response.

“I can’t stand to see you like this,” Warriors whispered, still holding his brother close to his chest. “Let yourself be loved for a moment, no matter how little it is. You’ll break yourself far quicker doing that than you ever could getting attached,”

“How- how much did she tell you?” Legend croaked, raising his head to look Warriors in the eyes. The captain smiled.

“Once she told me about you, she’d mention things. She told me that you liked embroidery while she was fixing up her clothes. She nearly cried when we made your favorite food,” Warriors took a breath, exhaling slowly as if to calm himself. “One time, it had been a bad few weeks, for all of us. She told me, and I quote, ‘As much as you like to separate yourself, you know the story of my island. I loved that boy with all my heart and he was as skittish as a rabbit at first, you’re not getting out of friendship just because you feel bad,’”

“She didn’t tell me everything, but I know enough to know that you must be hurting. And that’s why you’ve gotta let us help you, vet,” Legend’s tears didn’t stop coming, but he cracked a mischievous smile.

“Who are you and what have you done with our idiot captain?” He joked, getting a small laugh from Warriors, who had since faced the fire again. “Captain?”

‘What is it?”

“Thanks,” Legend spat out, finding it hard to say those words, his old attitude bubbling back up as his tears dried. Warriors raised an eyebrow. “No- really. Thank you,”

“Don’t mention it,” Warriors nodded, letting Legend lean into his side once more. The veteran still clung to his tunic like a child, but if he was feeling better, Warriors didn’t mind. “Do you think that you’ll fall asleep anytime soon?”

Legend shrugged. Warriors grinned, looking at the curled up veteran, who was suspicious of the devilish expression.

“Then do you wanna hear the time that Marin brought Ganondorf to his knees?” 

[snidgetwidgeon]

Insurrection Recollections Series: Royal Etiquette & Funding

Zelda sighed and began distracting herself with the clouds rolling by through the large windows of the Reception Hall. About a quarter of the size of the Great Hall, it was filled with amenities for entertaining delegates, courtiers, and their guests. At ten in the morning on Mondays, however- when nothing social was ever scheduled- Governess Beatrice utilized the space to teach young ladies from the upper and middle classes in Castle Town, as well as the noble families across Hyrule, about etiquette. She was currently standing at the head of the table, which was draped decoratively in neutral linens, and decked out with just about every dish, glass and piece of silverware one could imagine; including those that featured on the tables of all the races in Hyrule. Eye-catching pops of color were provided by the matching table runner and napkins, all in complementary shades of red, but to Zelda, it seemed frilly and way over the top.

Governess Beatrice must have known, or planned herself what the display was going to look like today, because she matched it perfectly. She wore a deep crimson gown over a cream chemise with long sleeves trailing from her elbow. In her hand, she held a fan which Zelda could swear was permanently attached to her body if it weren’t for the fact that it always changed to align with her elaborate ensembles. She was also partial to big hair and small hats.

As she droned on, Zelda went further into her daydream and thought she could see the Royal Crest in the clouds. Perhaps it was a sign from Hylia. Maybe if she prayed now, the power would come to her. What if she didn’t even need her robe, heirloom jewelry, or to be penitent before Hylia’s statue? Maybe she just needed to be open to celestial signs in the clouds. She clasped her hands under the table and moved her lips silently in prayer, eyes locked on the crest that had already begun to morph out of shape.

“Princess Zelda? Princess, may I have your attention please?” After no answer, Beatrice smacked her fan on the edge of the table. “Princess Zelda! Pray tell, what is so important that you are ignoring my class?”

Zelda snapped out of her focus and looked sadly at her instructor, “I thought I had received a sign from the Goddess.” She looked down at her hands, “But she has not answered my prayer.”

Beatrice was taken aback, reprimands dying on her tongue. “I see.” She did feel somewhat sympathetic, though still frustrated. When Zelda had first joined her classes, she been instructed to allow the Princess to seek the divine if she felt naturally inclined. After recalling the directive, Beatrice opened the fan with the flick of her wrist and offered graciously, “Perhaps your Highness would like to retire to the chapel to continue communing with Hylia?”

Zelda closed her eyes and nodded wistfully.

“Very well then, you may be excused.” Beatrice clipped.

Zelda stood and elegantly held her hands in front of her the way she knew Governess Beatrice liked. When she stepped away from the table, an attendant skillfully blending into the wall nearby, approached to push her vacated chair back in. They immediately returned to their position of observation.

Before she made her way out, she made a request. “Governess Beatrice, could Lady Agitha please accompany me?”

The two were inseparable, Beatrice noted, and the lesson was nearly done so she couldn’t see too much harm in it. “Lady Agitha, you may join the Princess. I expect you both to be diligent and learn from your peers what you’ve missed. Perhaps you can invite some of them to tea before Thursday.”

Agitha had leapt from her chair and practically scurried over to Zelda. She hadn’t yet grasped the finer points of subversion.

Beatrice clapped her hands, “Ah, ah! Girls... decorum.”

Zelda gave Agitha a look to ‘cut-it-out’ and took her friend’s arm in her own. They departed, Zelda’s steady steps guiding Agitha’s giddy ones.

~~~

It had been a few months of constant tedium and Zelda found that she could not always sealshit her way out of it. Twice a week, they learned how to speak, walk, stand, sit, breath, and exist as a lady. If it had to be done, there was a proper way to do everything, even blow your nose. But no one ever dared break wind. As far as Governess Beatrice was concerned, ladies did not poot.

Zelda’s eleventh birthday was approaching and Beatrice was using the event as a reason for the girls to begin perfecting their curtsies. First, they began by learning basic form. Once the general sweep of the leg, the dip of the head, and suspension of the arm was well practiced, she started to demonstrate the different levels one observed for varying degrees of rank. Zelda had been exposed to this all her life but Governess Beatrice was exceptionally exacting and expected nothing less than perfect preciseness. She thought of attempting escape again but she’d already done it twice this month. Anything more would surely attract suspicion.

Just as she started to feel a brain melt coming on after the fiftieth-odd curtsy, the Governess called an end to their lesson for that day. She entreated them to practice before later in the week when they would continue, and her excitement was practically terrifying when she announced they’d be presented with a varied wardrobe to study with. The morning was sure to be overflowing with petticoats, laces and frills.

Zelda wondered if she could play sick, or hide in the library. She much preferred it there, and recently she had managed to make a friend with an acquaintance of the Head Librarian Laslin. Her name was Impa and she had come to Castle Town recently with her older sister from Kakariko Village up in the Necluda mountains. They were here to research Ancient Sheikah Technology and were apparently already well informed on the subject. Zelda didn’t know much beyond the fact that the Astral Observatory was Sheikah. She adored that part of the castle and held dear a few faint, but very warm memories of her mother teaching her about the constellations.

“I’ll say it one more time ladies. You’d do well to practice on your own because we will be staying on this until you have all transformed into elegant herons.” She finished in the sing song voice that she thought made her seem nice, but really just grated on everyone’s nerves.

Zelda’s legs were so sore the following week after the extra curtsy lessons that it reminded her of the time she had tried ballet. The stiffness of her thighs made everything difficult, even using the lavatory; especially in her court dress. She smoothed the skirts and made sure everything was back in place before returning to the high tea being held in the courtyards. She was hoping she could get away with doing nothing more than sit and look pleasant for the rest of the afternoon, but just as she made herself comfortable under the pavilion, Governess Beatrice announced that they would be taking a stroll through the gardens.

Zelda sighed and rolled her eyes, which her friend Agitha had seen and giggled. She came to join Zelda as the sore Princess got up again and took her arm. “It’s better if you keep walking around you know,” she imparted as if she was full of infinite wisdom.

“How do you know that?” Zelda asked skeptically.

“Because my older brother told me. He goes on lots of adventures.” She paused as they both received parasols upon entry to the gardens, and ignored Beatrice’s spiel extolling the virtues of parasols. “He gets to do all the fun things with father while I have to stay here ‘because it’s tradition’,” she quoted her mother in a mocking voice.

“I thought brothers were no-good troublemakers.” Zelda stated with an air of query.

“Mine’s ok... most of the time.” Agitha laughed at her own joke while Zelda smiled, then continued, “When we’re both at home he helps me to find the best bugs.”

Zelda halted in shock and pulled Agitha to the side of the path so the other girls could pass. She whispered excitedly, “You like hunting for bugs!?”

Agitha dropped her parasol over their heads to whisper back, “I have a collection! I haven’t been able to add to it for a while though. Too much lady stuff to do,” she spat out with a scrunched face.

“I know the best rocks to look under, follow me!”

They were suddenly a flurry of giggles disappearing around the corner of a hedged bush. The other girls rolled their eyes and the teacher’s pet of the bunch took it upon herself to go and inform the Governess that there had been a break of rank in there very serious garden stroll.

Zelda dropped her parasol to the ground carelessly when they arrived in her old hunting grounds. There was a garden bed separated from the gravel path by a curved line of medium sized stones. She dropped to her knees and began turning them over one by one, inspecting the microcosm under each. Agitha joined her on the ground after folding and leaning her parasol against a bush with slightly more decorum, but once she was into the bugs, all sense of propriety was forgotten. They dirtied their dresses in the upturned soil and Agitha stood back up to hold out a layer of her skirts to make a receptacle. She directed Zelda which bugs to throw in and they devolved into fits of giggles as they rediscovered one of their beloved childhood activities. When they were found, Governess Beatrice was beside herself at their display of unladylike behavior.

All the other girls had followed to see what the commotion was about and were entertained beyond measure that the Princess of Hyrule was in trouble. They stood in their pristine, high tea finery, with slightly agape mouths hidden by dainty gloved fingers.

“Lady Agitha! Princess Zelda!” Beatrice’s head kept jerking back and forth between the two of them as if she couldn’t decide whom to admonish first. She decided on the royalty. “Princess Zelda, stand up at once! You have completely dirtied yourself!”

Zelda stood and brushed some of the dirt off the fabric over her knees. She started to tip the rocks back to rights with her foot while Beatrice turned her frustration to Agitha.

“And- Lady Agitha!” she admonished while straightening her back.

Agitha clutched her skirt closed around her waist and started to feel distraught that she would lose her new friends.

“What in Hyrule are you doing? It is very improper to be showing your petticoats in public. Put them to rights this instant,” she demanded. When Agitha hesitated, she became cross. She snapped her fan and came closer in an effort to appear more intimidating. “I said fix your dress, girl. You look like a harlot!”

Zelda glared daggers at the woman and vowed to get her back somehow, but Agitha took care of it herself.

Fear gave way to anger and she decided to unleash her new army upon Beatrice in frustration for not being allowed to be who she was any more. She hated growing up. With a dramatic cry of, “Have them, then!” she flung her dress open and the bugs were hurled in her direction.

The woman proceeded to scream, throwing up her parasol and flapping her fan all over to get the critters away. As she carried on, all the young ladies started laughing... and Agitha curtsied.

~~~

Four Years Later

Agitha kept moving restlessly from the parlor table to the tall balcony windows, peering out at the long and empty road leading up to the Windvane Manor.

After hearing her sigh for the umpteenth time, her older brother Theudric drawled, “At this rate, you’ll dull the marble. Why don’t you busy yourself and go check on the refreshments?” He was draped on the chaise lounge reading and when she came back over to scowl at him, he smirked.

“And miss her arrival? Absolutely not!” Her hip bounced a little and she admitted, “Though I do need to powder my nose.”

Just as her dress swished around the corner and out of the room, Theudric yelled, “Agitha! She’s here!”

“Finally!” She came peeling back round, almost slipping on the polished floors, and raced to the window only to find the same empty cobblestones. She heard her brother snickering behind his book and stomped over with a withering glare. “You remember the last time?” she threatened. “What ended up in your bed?”

His eyes went wide and he fell silent, burying his face in the book again, but his shoulders were still bouncing slightly.

It was still another three quarters of an hour before their guest arrived. Zelda appeared bright and cheerful, too excited to be tired from her journey, and refused offers of an afternoon’s repose. The opportunities to spend time with her friend were dwindling far too much so she wanted to take advantage of all the limited time they’d have. If she could give up sleep she would.

Agitha held her for an age in a warm embrace and then brought her to the parlor where they could all have luncheon. The moment they entered, Theudric snapped his book shut and stood ramrod straight, a slight color entering his cheeks.

“Zelda, you remember my brother, Theudric?”

Zelda smiled as he approached and gave a curt bow. “Princess Zelda, it is my pleasure to receive you to the manor. Lord and Lady Windvane send their apologies since they are away on business.”

“Thank you, and please give them my regards when they return,” she performed a small curtsy.

“Right,” Agitha announced. “Are we done with the pleasantries? Let’s eat! I’m famished.”

They gathered around the table and Theudric jumped to Zelda’s side to pull out her chair. “If you’ll allow me one more pleasantry.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Agitha stood near her own chair watching the lingering interaction and then cleared her throat.

Theudric shook his head a little in exasperation, “Oh, of course. Let me get that for you Aggi.”

They caught up while they ate and shared their latest interests. Agitha declared that she had a lovely surprise for Zelda in the lower storerooms of the house and Zelda spoke about her obsession with ancient Sheikah technology after the Divine Beasts had been discovered. A new friend, Dr. Purah, had lead the excavation for the last one in Eldin about two years prior and her younger sister Impa had begun advising the King on the subject. Zelda had since signed on to help where she could.

As she continued regaling her company with anecdotes about her translation work, Theudric sat riveted; he was so impressed with her academic achievements. A lot of people held the incorrect assumption that the Princess frittered away her time in court. She did make appearances in court- he had seen her himself on a few occasions when he went to the castle with his father on business- but she hardly wasted her time there. In fact, it seemed to him that she stayed the bare minimum that was acceptable. He vowed from then on that he would defend her honor and brilliance to anyone who stated anything to the contrary.

When he joined in the conversation and spoke of what their parents were up to lately, Agitha put on her most irksome, bored face. “Theu, that’s not interesting in the slightest- Zelda, have you had enough?” she interrupted herself to change the subject. “I can’t wait any longer to show you my new collection.”

Zelda laughed and regarded Theudric with a look of apology. “Forgive me Master Theudric, I appear to be summoned to the bowels of the house. Will you be joining us?” she asked as she stood.

He rose with her out of respect and opened his mouth but Agitha cut in, “He will not. He told me earlier that the day was so lovely he might go riding, and it’s about time I got you all to myself.”

Theudric put on mock dramatics, “I’m afraid I can’t join your Highness as I have a previous engagement with my horse. Missing an appointment with her would be a most egregious offense.” He bowed deeply. “Please forgive my absence.”

Agitha rolled her eyes and Zelda smiled bemusedly. She heard pandering like this all the time but it was much more palatable when delivered in jest rather than earnestly. It could become very tiring when people tried too hard and spoke only to her rank instead of to her person. It was why these less frequent opportunities to visit her friend away from the castle had become all the more important. She could relax and be herself out here, especially with Agitha. The only other respite she had was Gerudo Town and a trip there was even harder to wrangle as her responsibilities grew with each passing year.

“That’s quite understandable,” Zelda related. “My Rune also gets temperamental if I don’t visit him regularly.” She dipped her head and took one more little triangle egg sandwich from the table as Agitha dragged her off. “Enjoy your ride!”

Agitha led Zelda downstairs to one of the cooler, stone-lined basement store rooms. Behind the heavy wooden door that Agitha held open for her, Zelda’s breath was taken away by all of the glass terrariums lit by a plethora of lanterns. Each one had a manicured ecosystem and held from one, to many different species of bugs. Zelda bounced from one to the next as Agitha stood back, pleased with her reaction.

“This is wonderful Agitha! How did you manage to curate this?”

“Mother finally caved and said I could pursue my entomology hobby as long as it ‘doesn’t interfere with my other obligations’,” she quoted, exaggerating her mother’s shrill voice.

“I’m so happy for you. Oh! What’s this one? It doesn’t have a sign yet.”

Agitha approached to get a closer look. “Ah, that’s one of the rainy beauties, a Thunderwing Butterfly. Mother had a cow when I went to collect it because I was running around the meadow in a downpour.” She sighed, “Honestly, I’m so glad when she goes away because then I can just do my thing without her fretting over me.”

In a soft voice that sounded wistfully sad, Zelda offered a different perspective. “I’m sure that whatever she does, she does it out of love.”

Agitha was about to argue but when she noticed Zelda’s face after turning her attention away from the butterfly, she understood what she’d done. “Yeah... I’m sure you’re right.”

~~~

The next morning, Theudric found himself in front of the mirror trying to make himself look extra spiffy. He’d already asked his valet to put out one of his smartest ensembles. It included a red vest with gold buttons, brown trousers and calf-high boots. He was about to second guess if it was too fancy when he got distracted by his hair and proceeded to fiddle with it for a good twenty minutes. There were only so many things he could do with a short brown mop so finally, he just slicked it back and finished with a spritz of cologne.

He came downstairs, ready to entertain but he couldn’t see the girls anywhere. Their breakfast was half eaten and in his curiosity to find out where they could have gone, he gulped a bit of apple juice and grabbed a boiled egg to eat on his way out.

He wasn’t expecting to run right into them after turning the corner of the garden hedge, so he covered his mouth unceremoniously as he chewed quickly, the pasty egg yolk clinging to his teeth and tongue.

Zelda looked up and smiled radiantly under her sun hat. "Good morning Master Theudric." She was bent over the rim of a new large terrarium on a table, carefully placing a bit of hollow log inside to add to the habitat.

“Yes,” he finished swallowing his breakfast, “it is indeed a very beautiful morning. What are you ladies up to?”

Agitha gave him a withering stare. “What does it look like, genius?”

“Give me a break, I haven’t even been able to have my coffee,” he defended himself. “Had to come looking for you instead, didn’t I.”

“And just in time too. This one’s almost finished,” she said as she placed seedlings in pre-prepared holes in the soil at the bottom. “You can help us carry it downstairs.”

“Oh! Ah, I just remembered,” he started with a pained look on his face. “I have this thing.” He started to retreat and Agitha produced a flat and unamused expression that made him chuckle. “I’m just kidding Aggi. Are we carrying it or is it heavy enough that I need to get Genly?

“Mmmm, yes. I think Genly would be a good idea. I saw him in the stables earlier when I went to get some manure.”

“Wow, you aren’t messing around,” he said with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

“Only the best for my babies,” she answered.

His brow raised skeptically. “Riiiight... I’ll just go fetch Genly, then,” he stated while letting his gaze linger on Zelda as she brushed her hands together to remove the soil.

He had just turned away when she looked up to speak, the thought of allowing some self indulgence crossing her mind. “Master Theudric, do you mind if I join you? I’d love to meet the mare that stole you away from us yesterday.” Of course all three of them had known it was a pretense, but she enjoyed keeping up the ruse.

Theudric curtly bowed at the waist and gestured toward the stables. “Absolutely, your Highness. Posy would be enchanted.”

“She’s enchanted by hydromelons and if you visit her without them she’ll be a right little piece of twatittude,” Agitha warned. “I’m going to water this in. Don’t take too long.”

While Zelda bribed her way into Posy’s affections, Theudric searched the stables for Genly and found him organizing in the tack room. He was a kindly, middle aged man who’d worked for the Windvane family since he was about fifteen. His family ran the Highland Stable down south but rather than taking on the business and starting a family as he would have been expected to do when he got older, he decided to make his own way and live quietly alone in a little house on the grounds.

“Ah, Master Theudric,” Genly greeted him with a smile under his bushy mustache, tipping his hat. “Going for a ride this fine morning?”

“Morning Genly. Not at the moment.” He was about to continue with his request when an idea occurred to him. “Though maybe a bit later. I’m afraid I’m just after assistance with some heavy lifting. Aggi needs a new tank taken downstairs to her lair.”

“Righto,” Genly said as he laid some rope on the table to return to later. “Always happy to help; point the way.”

Zelda opted to continue making Posy’s acquaintance. She was entertained by the fact that the temperamental mare was pacified by hydromelons. They weren’t the usual fare at the castle stables and she thought perhaps she should acquire some for Rune to try. Maybe it would help them to bond better.

Theudric wasn’t long in returning and Genly, who was in tow to head back to what he’d initially been doing, took one look at them and steered clear out the other end of the stables to do something else. He tipped his hat as he passed by, “Your Highness.”

She smiled and nodded, then regarded Theudric with a hand on Posy’s muzzle. “Well, shall we get back? Agitha will certainly be getting restless by now.”

He leaned against the gate of Posy’s enclosure and smoothed his hair back with one hand before saying, “Actually, I’m wondering if you’d be willing to humor me for awhile. I’d love to hear more about the ancient Sheikah research you’re into.” His face was all keen interest.

“I’d be wary of that if I were you,” she warned. “Once you get me going on the subject, I’ll forget the time and talk you to exhaustion, I’m sure!”

His lips turned up into a dashing smile. “Try me.”

She seemed reticent but still in good humor, so he pursued a different tactic. “How about a deal then?”

She forgot her manners and snorted derisively, accidentally startling Posy. “Of what sort- oh, sorry Posy, I’ll leave you to the rest of your melon,” she said as she put the remaining pieces in her feed trough.

“A hobby for a hobby. You tell me all about yours while I escort you to mine. That way, there will be mutually assured boredom.”

She enjoyed his company. He seemed to not judge her natural proclivities and she appreciated that. “I really can’t fault your logic, Master Theudric.”

“Please, call me Theu,” he requested earnestly.

Agitha had just arrived on the scene to find out what had been keeping them and rolled her eyes so hard her whole body teetered to one side. “Uuugh, you’re not taking her to the Collie, are you?”

“Why not? If we take the horses, it will be a fun, midday outing. We can take a lunch.”

“What’s going on at the Coliseum?” Zelda asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

Theudric began to speak but Agitha cut him off again, “Only his pet project which daddy is sooo proud of.”

Before Agitha could continue teasing, Zelda said earnestly, “It’s a wonderful thing to have a father’s approval. I think I’d like to see the hobby that garnered such a thing. Maybe I can get some tips so father can see the value in my hobby as well.”

Theudric’s ears perked up and he asked, “Are you short of funding?”

“Honestly, I can’t complain. The research has been well funded, but it has grown to the point where we need a second location. There is an energy source that must be tapped if we want to progress as quickly as possible.”

“Sounds very interesting.”

“You say that, but there’s a catch. It’s almost as far east as you can get, near the Village of Hateno.”

“Ahh, the boonies. Father calls it bum ffff- never mind,” he caught himself from almost being incredibly uncouth in front of the Princess of Hyrule and straightened his posture. He just found her so easy to be around. Quite a different flavor from other young ladies he’d socialized with.

She suppressed a chuckle and caught Agitha’s bored expression from where she was sitting on a bale of hay, twirling pieces in her hand and waiting. “Agitha, are you going to join us? I think a ride with lunch sounds lovely.”

“It’s ok. You two go on ahead.” She stood up and stretched. “I’m going to finish the habitat for the second tank. I’ll send something from the kitchen while the horses get tacked up.”

Theudric looked incredulous. “Thanks Aggi.”

She left the stables and just as he was about to continue his conversation with Zelda, she poked her head around the corner. “Don’t take all day, you hear?!”

Zelda waved cheerfully and had a look at the other horses in their stalls. “So Theu, who shall I get ready to ride today?”

“Oh! Um...” he quickly turned away from her so he could hide the warmth he felt on his cheeks, no doubt manifesting as a full on blush at hearing his nickname as he’d requested. He led her to a brown and white spotted mare about three stalls down. “We’ll have to take Daisy because she’s the only one that Posy likes hanging around with.”

“Daisy and Posy, hm? All we need is another flower and we’ll be on our way to a bouquet,” Zelda joked.

And she made silly jokes. He was a goner.

Theudric led Daisy out to introduce them and laughed nervously. “Actually, you’re not far off. All the horses have been bred at my Uncle Talon’s farm on the other side of the field and he’s a... a quirky one. Names all his horses after flowers.” He leaned over to look past Zelda outside, “I’ll just find Genly to tack up.”

As he brushed past, she touched his arm, “It’s ok, I like doing it myself. Besides, that way Daisy can get to know me better before we go. Isn’t that right, beautiful girl?” she cooed, gently stroking Daisy’s face.

Theudric felt rude for letting his surprise show but she was paying more attention to Daisy anyhow. “Alright then, let’s get ready.”

He collected saddles and reins from the tack room and they got to work. She asked him about his project but he only touched on it briefly, wanting to share the full story during their outing when he could show as well as tell. He did let on that it was his innovation to combine the annual Kingdom Games with a harvest market. It would be a whirlwind fortnight of competition and bartering, boosting trade in the region for smaller, local farmers, and trades people. It was also ideally situated to receive the quality gem crafts and fabrics coming out of Gerudo Desert.

Zelda sat astride her mount first and was glad she brought her hat as she rode out into the clear summer day. Genly came past with another tip of his hat and handed her a packed lunch. “This came from the big house. I hope you enjoy your ride, your Highness. I’ll take care of the girls when you get back.”

“Thank you, Genly,” she beamed.

He shrugged shyly over the Princess of Hyrule remembering his name and passed Theudric’s lunch to him as he emerged next from the stables astride Posy. The two horses nibbled at each other and snorted, but otherwise got on.

“Well, then. Shall we?” Theudric asked.

Zelda clicked her heels and set off at a cantor. “We shall!”

~~~

The moment Zelda pulled away and the last of her small retinue were out of earshot, Agitha turned on her brother with a look of disdain. "I hardly get to see Zelda anymore. I'd appreciate you not stealing her from me next time she visits."

He finished waving and rolled his eyes at her as he turned to go back in the house.

When he didn't say anything, she kept on. "Theu! Seriously, you used to pay us no mind whatsoever. Why are you butting in?"

He kept walking through the vaulted foyer and answered nonchalantly, "I like her."

She froze in a silent gasp but recovered from the shock quickly, catching up to him in a flurry of clicking steps that reverberated off the polished floor. "Well- then-," she struggled to retain the argument after such a bombshell. "Then go see her on your own time and-"

He whirled on her, having become slightly annoyed at her petulance, "Honestly, I don't know why you're so upset. If she likes me back, you two could end up being sisters, and then you can spend as much time with her as you like."

A loud and deep gasp filled the room this time, as if she'd inhaled all the available air in the house, "YOU'RE RIGHT!"

She then left him with a bemused expression as she made a mad dash to her writing desk upstairs. She'd begin matchmaking right away, starting with a letter to Zelda. Subtle hints, not too overt. She'd have to gauge if he was even on her radar. Probably not, all she talked about was ancient Sheikah tech...

She giggled as she wrote, imagining the day when they could be sisters.

[youarejesting]

BTS Among US.3

Summary: You have a crew of 11, well now 10. The captain has been killed. Whatever it is doesn’t appear to be human but from the evidence you gathered, whatever it is, is pretending to be one of you. Who is it and why? Rating: T (teen and up) Genre: Murder mystery, supernatural, comedy, angst, action, adventure and more. Schedule: Updates every FRIDAY EST./SATURDAY AEST. please get your VOTES completed before Saturday or your bias may be kicked off the ship. Anouncements: Sorry this wasn’t out on Friday/Saturday my life is honestly in shambles haha like today couldn’t get any worse. but on the bright side this one is long almost 2k.

The next morning saw Jimin in the cafeteria lined up with his tray in hand, you felt a little reassured after yesterday that he was not the imposter. The two of you had no trouble talking freely through your headsets while waiting in line for breakfast. Hoseok in his red suit rushed out of the cafeteria so quickly that the cutlery on his tray rattled. Across the room, the doors to the cafeteria opened and a figure in a purple suit entered elaborately with a party hat on. 

“Jungkook what are you wearing?” You laughed as he struck a pose for you.

“I was bored and tried to spice up my suit,” His voice leaked through your headset. You were almost at the front of the line when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning to see the pink suit standing behind you.

“I hope you don’t mind, I joined your channel, I just wanted to talk?” Seokjin’s voice was its usual breathy tone, “I just was wondering, I have to fix the faulty wiring today since captain cyan is gone. I was wondering if I could go with you it’s kind of nerve-racking moving around on your own, and electrical is a scary place, I wouldn’t mind having someone watch my back”

“Uh, yeah of course” You were nervous, the same way you were nervous around Jimin. You retrieved your breakfast and headed out to the Admin you scanned. You had to scan your ID every morning and download your daily files. This was a task everyone did every day, Jimin stepped up to the ID machine and while you all stood waiting behind him, you noticed you didn’t hear the signature beep.

Had he forgotten his ID card? You pondered this thought making a note to address it at the meeting if needed as it was suspicious behavior. But you had been with him just yesterday so sure if he wanted you dead he could have killed you when you were getting your medscan.

Taking your breakfast down the hall and into your office you placed everything onto your empty desk and popped off your helmet. It was nice to feel the artificial air on your face, something you never would think you would find such a luxury.

Taking a deep breath you began uploading the files onto your computer and waiting for them to upload before setting the updated flight pattern, the pattern was still the same and instructions were similar to the day before. Shoveling in your breakfast, you got a quick call from Seokjin. Securing your helmet back in place you answered quickly trying not to cause suspicion.

“Hello, Seokjin this is Y/n how can I help?” It was your typical greeting hoping the familiarity would put him at ease.

“Hi, I was wondering if you had finished breakfast and wanted to join me?” His voice was nervous. “It’s just since captain cyan is gone, I have been taking over some of his jobs”

“Of course, where should we meet?” You asked, gathering your things, hoping you could hand back your tray to the cafeteria.

“Well, we could meet at electrical but I will have to put back my tray” Seokjin sighed as you heard a small clatter of cutlery on the tray through your headpiece.

“I will meet you in the cafeteria, I also have to return my tray” You walked up the corridor passing by Hoseok’s office, knocking on his door hoping to see the young man. The doors opened and Hoseok shuffled cautiously in his suit, you gestured with three fingers it was the channel you favored and he switched quickly, “Hey Hobi, can I return your tray?”

He confirmed handing over his leftover things from breakfast, you tried to give him a reassuring thumbs-up, knowing there wasn’t much else you could say that hadn’t already been said. He gave a weak thumbs-up back still appearing timid and the tiniest “Thank you”

You were unsure if the thank you was regarding the tray or the fact you hadn’t killed him. Shrugging it was something you wouldn’t allow yourself to dwell on, that would only lead to paranoia and impulsive acts.

You met Seokjin in the cafeteria and the two of you handed over your breakfast trays. “Are you ready?” Seokjin asked, looking at the instructions on the device in his hands. “We just have to fix a few broken wires”

The two of you made it as far as the electrical room before you were cackling and making puns, Jimin passed by holding what appeared to be one of Hoseok’s potted plants from O2 and the two of you waved at him as he passed.

The electrical room was creepy and you couldn’t help eye the vent on the floor, wondering if whatever it was imitating one of your crewmates would jump out. The two of you were fixing the wiring, still making puns, and talking about food. You were in the middle of connecting the first wire when the lights went out. 

Seokjin stopped digging through his tool belt and found a torch for you to continue working. “That may have been our fault” He laughed looking around at the wires curious for any bad connections.

You tried to focus on the wires, trying to ignore the shifting shadows around you, the obscure shapes, and the faint creaks that echoed in from strange parts of the ship that you could have sworn were the vents. You instead tried to focus on leading the wire from where it had broken over to the other side making the necessary repairs. 

At some point, your hands stopped shaking, and you were diligently working not allowing yourself to think beyond the wires in the wall. It was better this way, you found if you blocked everything out you would be 

Between connecting the second and third wire you heard footsteps in the corridor. Turning and pointing the flashlight towards the doorway, you see a figure pass only noticing a party hat and the soft creak of a vent. “Jin I think Jungkook just walked past?”

“We should follow him?” Jin mumbled,  moving to the door and peeked his head out, looking around after him “What is he doing down here, he should be in upper engines” 

You had to still fix the wires and handed the torch to Seokjin to hold, freeing up both hands to reconnect them. Hoping that if it was your mistake for the lights being out that you could fix the problem quickly. 

There was a clatter outside and Seokjin turned torch pointed at the door, he was visibly shaking as he stepped in front of you. “Can I get everyone’s location?” Namjoon asked, there was a pause before people began giving their location and company.

“Uh we are in…” You focused on the lights it was important you fixed the, with the last wire connected the lights coming back on. You whipped back around to see Seokjin clutching the torch still pointed at the empty door and looking out into the hall. He whispered quietly “I thought I saw something”

A scream rips through your headsets and you felt your blood run cold. Between gasps brown, one of your best friends said, “Hoseok’s dead.”

All of the crewmates rushed into the security office run by Jung Hoseok. Yoongi barged past those in the doorway effectively pushing you into Namjoon’s strong chest to see Hoseok's body torn in half and left on the floor. 

“No no no, we were just talking, this can’t be real” Yoongi shook his hands curling into fists he frowned “I was just talking to him over our headset, he said he saw purple and brown, it has to be one of them?” 

“Whoever did this, I will kill you,” his voice was furious but broke into a small sob. Jimin bent down to check Hoseok’s pockets. As his form lowered you could see behind him on the desk was the pot Jimin had been carrying earlier that day. 

“I’m not accusing anyone but I saw Hoseok this morning, I asked him to return his breakfast tray, but Seokjin and I saw Jimin carrying that potted plant which is now on his desk.” You tried to keep your voice level and passive “That and when scanning our ID this morning Jimin’s didn’t beep meaning he didn’t swipe a card”

“I left him alive ages ago and Yoongi said the two were just talking and Hoseok mentioned purple and brown, I actually had my card but it was inside my suit and we can’t take them off in the event of a breach,” Jimin said calmly, he understood your point of few even if you were accusing him. Pulling a notebook from the chest pocket of the top half of Hoseok, he flicked through it. “I think you should read this”

You took the notebook and frowned. “They move through the vents and can see in the dark. DON’T TRUST ANYONE”

“We need to look at the blueprints of the ship to know what vents connect where” Namjoon said “Maybe then we can pinpoint who had access to Hoseok’s office”

“I was with Green we were discussing the samples taken from the last planet, we believe one of the objects we obtained has gone missing,” Orange explained “We were in storage moving to the cafeteria when we received the call”

“Seokjin and I were in the electrical, we were reconnecting wires when the power went off, I thought I saw Jungkook in his party hat walk past the door he could have come down from security through the lower engines after killing Hoseok.” You explained casually still not trying to appear too defensive.

“I was in O2” Yoongi explained, no one had seen or heard from him but he was the last person to hear from Hoseok before he died. Namjoon was also apparently alone in the admin without any witness’. “It’s a bit suspicious that he asked where everyone was when the lights went out as if perhaps he was trying to find who was alone and vulnerable.”

“Okay green and orange can vouch for each other and white and I can vouch for one another” Jin gestured to you the collective nods around the table “Black was alone as was blue and that leaves brown, yellow, and purple.”

“I was in medbay with yellow, Jimin asked me to do a medscan while I was being scanned. Jungkook stepped into the room, saw us both, and turned to leave.” Brown gestured across the table at Jungkook  “That’s a bit suspicious”

“I went to see Jimin, he wanted me to do a medscan but I saw he was already busy doing a medscan and thought I would come back later when the power went out.” Jungkook huffed at the accusation of being called suspicious.

“We have to vote,” Orange said, taking charge, “we can’t be here all day waiting for another death?”

“Please keep in mind the incidents and comments addressed within the previous meeting. As you take your vote.” Namjoon added his voice lethargic. 

Pieces of paper were handed around the table.

[VOTE HERE]  

I changed the way the voting was conducted so now you will vote at the end of every chapter and the results will be the first thing in the next chapter. Vote to save your bias and expose the imposter before its too late.

[Masterlist] [Tag yourself] [Next]

@juniethebug​​ @bts-cult​​ @tellmeyoulovemepls​​ @taevkimchi​​ @lovelyseomin​​ @rosita7703​

[reddeadinmybed]

Simplicity (M)

ANON ASKED; can we get NSFW dutchxreader? maybe something a little rough but not too violent or crazy.

Life on a farm was never easy. My father was never one to ask for money from loan sharks, he was too proud of a man to ever admit that he needed help when times were troubling. However, when a stormy night hit the farm and destroyed the crops and killed our livestock, my father had no choice. My father had somehow managed to find a loan shark easy due to them being only up the road. Something about them recently moving here from Ambarino.

The lenders name was Leopold Strauss. He was a German who was very good with numbers and anything mathematical. He lent my father approximately $250 to let the farm to get back on its feet again, which didn’t need the insane amount of money. He gave my father the time limit of a week and if we didn’t seek him out, he would send one of his men to come and “collect the money” for him. Sounded like a crock of shit to me. No loan shark would come and collect the money without starting a fight.

When my father told my little sister and I, we hit the roof. My father didn’t know the first thing about loaning or money in general. My father was now well over-encumbered with money and my sister and I had to make sure that the money was going to be spent accordingly and wouldn’t be spent on the likes of alcohol. It was either my father spending all the money for his own pleasures, or it was some assholes trying to steal the money for their own pleasures.

My sister and I thought we had managed to get the money back on time. We had put the money in the safe and didn’t let father know where the key was hidden. He agreed, not wanting to be indebted to a loan shark for the rest of his life. It was perhaps one of the smartest moves he made ever since mum died. The smartest move he ever made was to quit drinking and start focusing on a life with his two daughters.

Everything was going great until our farm got raided by some scum who called themselves the O’Driscoll’s. They stole our money, the money that we had saved to return to Leopold Strauss. They had blown up the safe whilst my father, sister and myself went to Valentine to grab supplies. 

We came back to nothing. No money. No cattle. Absolutely nothing. We were lucky they didn’t burn our house down. If they had, we would not have been able to have shelter. We were already on the cusp of losing the house. Prices were slowly starting to increase and supplies were scarce.

Leopold Strauss was going to send someone after us and there was nothing we could do about it. There was no way the three of us could make $130 in four hours. Father was told 6:00pm otherwise they would come and if was 2:00pm now.

Father told us that he was going to handle this problem and that we needed to hide. Something about not wanting any of the men in the gang to know we were here however we didn’t make it.

Just as my sister and I were going to hide, there was a man who kicked the door opened. My sister screamed in surprise and I pulled her closer to me, protecting her from the man. My sister was clinging to me desperately, terrified of the man who just knocked our door off its hinges.

“Mr L/N, it appears you haven’t handed us our money back.” The man says whilst taking a look around our house, most probably searching for something for him to take.

“Mr Williamson, you have to believe me when I say I had the money but those O’Driscoll boys took all of it. They had left us with nothing...I-I–”

Mr Williamson grabbed a glass from the cabinet and grabbed the scotch that was half empty. He then took a seat at the table and placed his feet on top of it. Mr Williamson poured himself a shot and brought it to his mouth, swigging it back.

“Now Mr L/N, do you really think I care about those damn O’Driscoll’s? You learn money to our Strauss and you need to pay up.” Mr Williamson chuckled, clearly finding the whole situation amusing.

Father spluttered with his words, giving Mr Williamson more of a reason to find the situation funny. Mr Williamson just sat there and continued to chuckle and pour another drink, knocking it back.

Mr Williamson looked over toward my sister and I, finally noticing us standing there, shaking in fear. If it was even possible, my sister gripped onto me even harder. I felt that if she held onto me tighter, I would die from getting crushed.

Mr Williamson gave a smirk.

“Well ain’t this a surprise,” he looked over at father. “Forget about the money Mr L/N, we’ll clear the debt for one of your beautiful beautiful girls over here.” Mr Williamson started as he creeped towards us.

“You leave them alone you hear! They’re not taking a single step out of this house with you. You and your gang can...can go fuck themselves! You hear me? Go fuck your self!” Father yelled and took steps closer towards Mr Williamson.

“Shut up you old bastard.” Mr Williamson pulled his gun out of his holster and whacked father over the head with it. Father fell to the floor, knocked unconscious from the impact of the hit.

My sister screamed, scared because father was our protector yet he was knocked out on the floor, leaving me to deal with Mr Williamson by myself, who was staring at my sister with predatory eyes.

Panic swarmed through me at the thought of Mr Williamson trying to take my sister. There was no way I could let him take her. I would rather him take me and even kill me before he even lays a finger on her.

“Now the question is, which one of you ladies should I take as payment.” Mr Williamson’s smirk only grew wider when my grip on my little sister tightened. It was obvious he wanted my sister and his menacing steps towards the two of us made it even more obvious.

“Y-You leave her alone you! Take me instead. I will go willingly if you let her go.” The words were meant to come out strong and make me long strong but my words were stumbled and quiet.

Mr Williamson’s smirk didn’t falter. He knew that I was scared and he knew that I couldn’t do a thing to stop him from taking my little sister. I would still try my hardest to keep the evil man that stands before me from stealing my little sister.

If Mr Williamson manages to take my little sister, I would never forgive myself.

“Well then. If I can’t have her...I’ll take you.” Me Williamson grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him. His grab caused me to go flying into his chest.

He stank of alcohol, no doubt he was drunk even before he came to ‘collect his money’. The smell made me want to gag, it was so bad. Not to mention that he hadn’t bathed in what seemed like centuries.

“H-hey! Let go of me!” I yelled out, trying to yank myself out of his grip.

Mr Williamson laughed.

“Look at what we got here. First she wants me to let her sister go and now she wants me to let her go. Well, I’ve got some bad news for ya sweetheart...” he looked me dead in the eye, “I’m going to have to take you with me. You’re the payment.” He then started walking towards the door, his grip on my collar pulling me with him.

“Y/N!” My little sister yells and proceeds to run after me.

Mr Williamson ignored her pleas and hogtied my hands before throwing me on the floor and hogtying my legs together. He threw me over his shoulders, his disgusting hands giving my waist a squeeze. He chuckled, throwing me over the horse.

“Y/N! No, please don’t go! I need you!” My sister cried out but there was nothing I could do. I was stuck on the horse and I couldn’t even see her. The repulsive man in front of me had faced me away from my little sister so as Mr Williamson got on his horse and started cantering away, I could only turn my head and look at her.

She looked a mess, crying her eyes out and eventually she collapsed onto her knees and thrusted her arms out as if she was trying to grab me. My little sister looked broken hearted and as Mr Williamson’s horse retreated, a tear fell from my eye.

How was I going to survive this?

It was only a 30 minute ride but it felt like hours. I didn’t attempt to speak in fear that I would get hit. I didn’t look towards Mr Williamson at all, not wanting to attract his attention towards me. During the ride Mr Williamson pulled out a flask and proceeded to frantically drink out of it. He finished it by the time we made it to the gangs hideout.

When Mr Williamson’s horse was hitched up, he grabbed my waist again, muttering about how nice my waist looked, threw me over his shoulder, and walked towards a large tent.

There was people in this gang - women to be in fact. They didn’t at all look intimidating, apart from one but she only looked stressed, ordering them girls to clean the sheets and clothes. Maybe they were like me. Slaves.

“Jesus Bill, Strauss sent you to collect money, not a girl.” One of the males said to Bill.

The man wore a worn out stenson with a blue shirt. He had a bandana wrapped around his neck and wore blue jeans with black and white suspenders. He had chaps that overlapped his pants and wore black boots. He was handsome, there was no denying it.

“Oh shut it Arthur, maybe if you could’ve done it better you should’ve gone instead,” Bill retorted and proceeded to walk towards the tent.

I looked at Arthur and he gave me an apologetic look, apologising on behalf of Bill.

I didn’t even get the chance to smile back at him because I was thrown to the floor. I grunted as I hit the floor, the air being knocked out of my lungs. I wheezed trying to find air for me to breathe again.

“Mr Williamson, I trust that this girl is important and that’s why you’ve kidnapped her from her home and robbed her from her family.” A sombre voice rang out and it had me turning to see who was the owner of the voice.

He was a tall but handsome man. He held a cigar in one hand and had the other holding on to his belt. He wore a black top hat with a red lining. He wore all black consisting of a black button up, jacket, dress pants and shoes. He stood there like a god and he looked like one too.

There was a girl in the tent who had red hair. She was gorgeous and had her hair professionally put up and looked perfectly in place. Her dress accentuated all her curves and made her bust looked luscious and plump. She was glaring at me, seeming displeased that I had pulled her away from the gorgeous man that stands before me.

“Dutch, this woman is payment for the L/N loan. Apparently the O’Driscoll’s had stolen their money right before I came. As punishment I took her.” Bill’s words made me angry; livid even.

“The O’Driscoll’s took everything we had! Even our payment to you, you incompetent asswipe.” I spat towards Bill, tired of seeing his excruciatingly annoying face.

Bill looked at me, annoyance dripping down his face.

“Now you shut it you dumb little bi –”

“Enough Bill. You can leave now.” Dutch called out, not once looking at him, his gaze remaining on me. “Before you do leave, untie the girl, she doesn’t need to be bound.” He placed the cigar in his mouth.

It was like I was entranced. Everything he did was perfect and all he did was put a cigar in his mouth.

Bill untied me and Dutch offered his hand out for me to grab. Apprehensively, I grabbed his hand and he pulled me up and towards him. I collided into his hard chest and his hand let go of mine and he placed it on my waist, stabilising me.

I blushed, not expecting such a brazen move. He was all kinds of warm, from his hands to his gaze. The weather was warm, probably why his grip was so warm.

“Everybody gather around. This here is –” he stopped and looked at me, expecting me to introduce myself.

“Y/N,” I muttered. It was so quiet I don’t even think that Dutch had heard it but he had.

“This is Y/N. She will be staying with us now. Keep your eye on her and if she runs away,” he paused to look at me. “Bring her back.” His voice was deep and it brought a shiver down my spine. It was clearly a warning. A warning to let me know that if I try and escape, there will be hell to pay.

A couple of minutes passed and everyone went back to what they were doing. People were cooking, others cleaning. Some were sitting there and writing in a book - a ledger. Most likely Leopold Strauss.

However Arthur caught my attention the most. He had a journal open and it appeared he was sketching. He looked at me ever so often and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Arthur was drawing me.

I slowly moved towards him and sat down next to him. He was sitting on a log that was overlooking the river. There was a lot of bugs around here but it was something that Arthur had seemed to be used to, not paying attention to any of the bugs flying around his face.

“Do you like drawing Mr –” I waited to hear his last name.

“Morgan,” he looked up towards me, staring at me for a bit before looking back down and sketching once again. “The last name is Morgan.” He looked very handsome sketching, yet not quite as handsome as Dutch.

“Mr Morgan,” I tested out his name and Arthur looked up at me. I gave a small smile and he returned one to me.

I had no idea but I wasn’t afraid. Mr Morgan made me feel...safe. It was as if he would never hurt me. I know its strange considering I just met him but he doesn’t look like he would hurt me. In fact, no one in this camp looks it. Apart from Mr Williamson and one other man in this camp (he had blonde hair and a strange moustache with an expression that was truly evil), it didn’t seem that any of them wanted to hurt me. Hell they even had a kid in this camp.

I felt somewhat safe with this camp which is definitely crazy considering they just kidnapped me from my family and my home.

“The answer is yes.” Mr Morgan said, confusing me. I frowned at him as if trying to remember if I said anything.

“You asked me if I liked to draw,” Mr Morgan clarified. “Yes, I like to draw.” Was all he said and we were sat in silence again.

I took one look at Dutch and he was talking to the girl in his tent. They didn’t look happy, somewhat yelling at each other. You could hear the phonograph playing classical music, drowning out their argument. I then looked back at the river again and watched as the sun started to go down.

I don’t know how I’m going to survive here but I’m hoping that eventually, they’ll let me see my family again.

It’s been a couple of weeks since I have been with the gang known as the Van Der Linde Gang. I have gotten to know everyone a bit better during the weeks I’ve resided here. I’ve even gotten to know Bill. He was a grumpy brute and although I don’t particularly like him (or Micah and Molly) I remain - for some silly reason - hopeful that a friendship can grow between the two of us.

I’m extremely close to Arthur Morgan and Mary-Beth. Karen doesn’t like me too much, saying I need “exposure to the real world and not some fairytale world”. The reason being that Mary-Beth and I love to read. We love to read about other lives. Other lives being the rich and famous and love stories that we could only dream of.

Arthur is my lifeline. When I felt like I was drowning, Arthur had managed to pull me back and remind me of who I am and what I was doing here.

Although I miss my family very much, I felt like this was the life that I was missing. I felt like I was meant to be here. I didn’t want to leave this place. Yes, I wanted to see my family again, everyone would in my situation. Yet I feel like I don’t want to go back to how things were before. It seemed boring.

Over the few weeks I also got to know Dutch Van Der Linde and his somewhat ‘girlfriend’ Molly O’Shea. Dutch refuses to call her that but Molly jumps at the chance, reminding me that Dutch belongs to her.

It was currently 7:30 in the afternoon and the sun had just left the sky a couple of minutes ago, yet there was a gorgeous residue of patterns from the sun that littered the sky. It was gorgeous.

“Miss L/N,” Mr Matthews voice called out. I turned to face him, a smile on my face.

Mr Matthews was a lovely old man who acted like a father to me. He always talked about his ex-wife Bessie and how things used to be. They were interesting stories and I loved to sit down by the fire and listen to them, a smile on my face.

“Yes Mr Matthews,” I said whilst turning around to face him completely.

His old age was slowly getting to him, the wrinkles becoming evident as each day passes. I had no idea how old he truly was but I was assuming he was in his late 60’s to early 70’s.

“Dutch would like a word with you in his tent.” A spark of nervousness ignited in my belly. The tingle I felt made my breath hitch and I could only give a small smile as a response to Mr Matthews.

He walked off leaving me to sit there and think about what Dutch could possibly want. Was it that he has noticed the stares that I give him? Was he going to kick me out of the gang? Was he going to yell at me for doing something wrong? My mind went into overdrive, thinking of all the worst case scenarios in my head.

I stood up abruptly and started walking towards Dutch’s tent which was all closed off. I had no idea how I was going to let him know that I was there, it wasn’t like I could knock on the sheet. Instead I resorted to, “Mr Van Der Linde, I’m here.”

Dutch uttered out a “come in,” and I found myself opening the sheet and stepping inside, making sure the sheet was shut properly. I then turned to face Dutch and my jaw almost dropped with the sight I had before me.

Dutch held a book in his hand and flicked the page when he had finished the page. His jacket was not one and his shirt was unbuttoned allowing me to see his chest. His hat was sitting on top of a barrel and I could see his hair was rough due to the hat being on all day.

“Y-yes Mr Van Der Linde?” I asked, stuttering at the beginning.

Dutch noticed this, a smirk on his face as he took a puff of his cigar. He blew out the smoke and placed cigar on a tray, ensuring that the whole tent won’t set on fire due to the cigar dropping.

“Miss L/N, I have called you in here so I can discuss a...an observation I have seen with you and Mr Morgan in the camp.” At the mention of Arthur my cheeks turned red.

Oh no, he thinks I like Mr Morgan!

“M-Mr Morgan? He and I are merely just friends, he and I a-are nothing more.” I muttered out quickly and Dutch smirks once again.

Dutch closed the book and placed it on the barrel before walking closer towards me. I took a step back, not wanting to be in his way but it appears he was walking towards me. I took another step back, afraid of what he was planning.

He flicked the switch of the phonograph and classical music started to play. The sound blocked my thoughts, it being way too loud for me to think.

“Dance with me Y/N.” The way he said my name sent a shiver down my spine. He offered out his hand and I didn’t even think before I grabbed his hand, eager to dance with him.

He pulled me to him, much like the first day that I met him, and I collided to his chest. His arms encircled around my waist, giving a little squeeze before his left hand gripped my own.

My breath hitched at being so close to him. His grip on me was tight, as if he never wanted to let me go which was fine by me because I never wanted him to let me go. Being in his arms felt right and I never wanted to be held in another mans arms.

Dutch moved backwards slowly, guiding me with him. Everything felt so right. I could feel his chest pressed against mine and my right hand was gripping his shoulder with such desperation, I’m sure Dutch could feel my nails digging in.

My gaze remained on his and his gaze remained on me, both of us too afraid to look away from each other. It was as if we’d disappear if we looked away from each other.

Dutch’s gaze flickered fo my lips, and at that moment, I desperately wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to make me his, I wanted to be his.

His head tilted in, as if he was going to kiss me and I wasn’t going to pull back. I wanted this just as much as he did. I wanted Dutch to kiss me, to call me his. I could feel his breath on my lips and we were so close our noses were almost touching. If I leant forward even the slightest, our lips would be pressed against each other.

The kiss was going to happen except Molly barged through the tent and saw Dutch and I. She saw me pressed completely towards Dutch and our heads tilted and close together.

I broke away from Dutch and removed myself from his embrace. Immediately a sense of longing filled me. A feeling of yearning for his embrace nagged at me and it would do anything to be in Dutch’s arms again.

Not thinking, I turned and ran out of the tent, not wanting to hear what Dutch nor Molly had to say. I just kept going until I finally made it to my tent and laid on the bed, attempting sleep.

I was afraid. I was afraid of the way I felt when I was with Dutch. I should hate him. He’s forbidding me from seeing my family and he’s keeping me here. I should feel nothing but repulsive when he touches me and I should be trying to escape as I’m thinking at this very moment; but I can’t. I don’t want to leave because when I’m with Dutch, my world is complete.

Maybe I was crazy but the simplicity of being with Dutch is what I yearned for. I didn’t have a struggle when I was with him, life was easy and simple. I wanted him and I knew I couldn’t have him.

He was with Molly.

A couple of days had passed since that night with Dutch. I had avoided both him and Molly, still not wanting to hear what they had to say. Not only that, I had no idea what to say to either of them. What would I even say to Molly? There was nothing to us? Clearly Dutch and I both wanted something that night whether it was just pure intimacy or each other. It wouldn’t make sense if it was just intimacy he craved, he had Molly for that. Right?

I was walking to a table to place my stew down when Molly stood in front of me and knocked my plate causing the hot stew to land on my chest and the food to cover me.

I gasped, not expecting Molly to do that or have food all over me and my clothes. It burned, the stew being fresh off the burner. I wanted to scream and flick the hot food off of my chest but I was also too proud to admit that I was in pain, especially to

Molly looked proud of herself for ruining my dress. She had a proud smirk on her face and she crossed her arms, pushing her bust out.

“What the hell!” I yelled out looking at Molly with an angry look on my face. Everyone in the camp looked our way to see what was happening.

Micah let out a little chuckle and made a remark, no doubt a disgusting one.

“That was for hanging out with Dutch, when you know he was mine.” She then turned away and started to walk away from me.

A flash of anger ran through me and I stormed towards the stew pot. I grabbed a bowl and grabbed a handful of stew with the spoon and placed it in the bowl before walking towards Molly O’Shea and dumping all on her.

She gasped in shock and yelled that it burned.

“Two can play this game Molly. Don’t fuck with me.” I then turned and started walking towards the river. I needed to get these clothes off of me.

I continued walking a few metres away from the camp, just to make sure that no one could see me. I didn’t want anyone to see me naked especially Micah. He was a creep.

When I thought I was clear, I started to undress. I then walking into the water, with my dress in hand. I needed to clean the stew off of the dress if I ever wanted to wear it again. I was limited in clothes and I needed this one to not be stained.

I stood in the freezing cold water trying to get the stain out, not even noticing that Dutch was slowly walking towards me. His steps were slow, him taking his time appreciating the view.

The water stood up to my waist so he would’ve been able to see my breasts and me struggling to get the stain out of my dress.

It wasn’t until I groaned and threw the dress towards the shore that I saw Dutch Van Der Linde standing there watching me. I gasped and covered my breasts although there was no point, he had already seen them.

Dutch stood there with a smirk on his face.

“Miss L/N, I didn’t realise you were so brass.” He grabbed his hat and placed it on the floor. He then took his jacket off, slowly undressing himself in front of me.

“Mr...Mr Van Der Linde, I-I wasn’t expecting you to follow me. I-I needed to clean my dress after –”

“After miss O’Shea threw your stew all over you. Yes I heard. I also heard that you threw stew over her. That was a very bad thing to do Miss L/N. You’re disturbing the peace around here,” Mr Van Der Linde said as he unbuttoned his cuff-links.

“I-I didn’t m-mean to. I was mad and...and I –”

“That’s enough talking Miss L/N, you need to be punished,” he cut me off once again. I gasped at his words. Punished? For sticking up for myself? How exactly is he planning on punishing me?

His shoes were off and his shirt was now unbuttoned, much like the night before. He was now pulling his belt out of the loop holes in his pants. He was staring at me as I watched him undress. Who knows what he was thinking at this point. All I know was that he was so darn attractive right now and I was excited to see what was going to happen.

I took a step back, gasping at the coldness of the water as it hit my nipples. Dutch noticed and smirked, pulling down his pants leaving him bare all for me. I started walking into the water, not even giving me a chance to bask in his naked glory.

He walked towards me and once he reached me he stood there, waiting for something to happen. Or perhaps that was me. We were just staring at each other, naked, with the water reaching my shoulders and his chest.

I don’t understand why he’s not doing anything. Was I not attractive enough? I don’t understand.

“Miss L/N, I must say, you are ravishing. I’m finding it quite hard to hold back.” I looked up in surprise. Hold back? What does me mean by that?

“What if I don’t want you to.” It was a bold move but I wanted to know what he would really do and what he’s really holding back.

He gave one last smirk. It was one last smirk before his lips were on mine and kissing me as if it was the last chance he would ever get to kiss my lips. The kiss was aggressive and fast but no doubt passionate. All of our emotions from the last couple of weeks towards each other were embodied in this kiss.

Dutch tilted his head to the left, allowing me to bring myself closer to him and for his arms to trail down my waist and grab at my ass. He squeezed his hands and I gasped in surprise, which allowed Dutch access to inside of my mouth. His tongue explored my mouth, learning every crevice within my mouth. I moaned and the intensity of the kiss. Never have I been kissed like this before.

Dutch’s lips detached from mine and his left hand came up and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking it down, causing my head to roll back. I winced at Dutch’s grip on my hair but all was forgotten once his lips attached to my neck.

They were slow kisses to start off but soon his patience was worn thin and he proceeded to sloppily kiss and suck at my neck before moving down and towards my breasts.

Dutch’s hands went down to the back of my thighs where he gripped them and pulled them up, wrapping my legs around Dutch’s waist. I could feel his length rub against my thigh and my stomach turned in anticipation.

I have never felt so hot and heavy for any man. Dutch is the only one who has brought these feelings upon me. I felt desire, a copious amount and it was only for him. I only wanted him. Every other man seemed like nothing in comparison to Dutch and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dutch circled his tongue around my nipple, sucking at the skin and making lewd noises that I have only dreamed of hearing. I’ve dreamt about this moment for weeks on end, wanting Dutch to fuck me; hard.

“Dutch,” I moaned out, gripping his hair with my hand. I pulled him closer towards my breast. He nibbles before biting at my left breast and I gasped in pleasure and in pain, the mix feeling so good.

Dutch pulled away from my breast and looked at me. I was puffed out, wanting Dutch to desperately fuck me and show me how bad I was being. I wanted him to punish me and tell me I was a naughty girl. I wanted everything and I wanted it now.

He turned around, me still in his grip and he walked towards the shore before placing me - surprisingly softly - on the ground. He hovered over me, looking at my body which was still wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he whispered to me before kissing me once again.

The kiss was still passionate and rough, exactly what you’d expect from Dutch Van Der Linde. He wasn’t a soft guy, he was a hard and tough man who brought nothing but dominance to the table.

His hand traveled down my body. His hand brushed past my stomach and I jerked due to reflexes until he finally placed his thumb on my clit. He placed pressure on it and sparks flew and travelled up my body. I let out a slight moan at the pleasure.

He pulled away and looked at my face, watching my face contort in pleasure as he slowly rubbed circles on my clit. He did this for what seemed like minutes but it was only a few seconds before pulling away.

“Do you like this Y/N?” His voice was incredibly deep, most probably due to the need he felt, much like I’m feeling at this moment. I needed more from him, I needed him inside of me.

He continued to circle my clit with his thumb gaining more moans from me. It was like I couldn’t control the noises that came from my mouth. They were dirty moans. The type of noises my parents would kill me for letting out.

“Answer my fucking question Y/N!” He raised his voice whilst rubbing my clit faster, causing more moans to escape my mouth. “I said do you like this?” He asked once more.

“Yes!” I called out, halfway through a moan. I wanted more, the teasing was getting too much. I wanted him to stop teasing me and actually do something.

Dutch said no more and moved the finger that was on my clit and travelled down to where I was needing him most. Dutch placed his finger at my entrance and slowly pushed it in. The intrusion made me gasp, bucking my hips forward to feel more of him. Once his finger was fully inside of me, he kept it there, not moving it at all.

“Please,” I begged whilst thrusting my hips up towards Dutch, wanting to feel his finger move in me. Dutch however would not move his finger at all, watching me with a smirk on his face as I looked at him pleadingly.

“What do you want me to do Y/N?” Dutch asked, moving the finger that was in me slightly but never retrieving his finger or attempting to move and make me feel good. It was as if he was waiting for me to tell him what I want.

“I want you to fuck be Dutch. Please,” Dutch pulled his finger out and plunged it back in, causing me to gasp in pleasure once again. “Fuck me,” I moaned out.

That was all it took for Dutch to pull his finger out and grip my legs, spreading them open. He looked at me with such a devious smirk that if I wasn’t so desperate for Dutch to fuck me, I would’ve gotten up and left my now.

Dutch without hesitation thrusted into me, giving me no time to adjust to his hard length which I have not even properly seen yet. It felt large and it left me breathless. It filled my walls up so perfectly and I just wanted him to move already. I wanted to cum so bad and I wanted him to mercilessly fuck me.

He sat there for a moment, looking at me to see how I was fairing. I wrapped my arms around his waist, bringing my arms back up to grip his shoulders. Dutch moved his head and placed it in the junction between my neck and shoulder.

Dutch pulled his hips back, causing his length to come out of my entrance before he slammed his length back in. I moaned loudly, loving the way that he managed to fill me so nicely.

“Faster,” I moaned out and Dutch grunted.

Dutch thrusted faster and harder causing my body to be thrusted upwards. My legs wrapped around his waist and I brought my nails down his back whilst moaning.

Dutch’s right hand travelled from my waist and moved towards, brushing over my breast and travelling up to my neck. He gripped my neck and gave a light squeeze. My breath gave way from the grip on my neck.

It all seemed too much. From the grip on my neck to the hard and fast thrusts that he was giving to me. I couldn’t make a noise, my mouth was open but nothing was coming out of my mouth. Dutch’s thrust kept moving my body, my breasts bouncing up and down. Dutch watched my body, enamoured by the way that my body was reacting to his movements.

“Yes Dutch!” I moaned out, not even caring that the camp may hear us from where we are situated. “Right there, please keep going, please!” I was practically begging, that was how much I wanted to cum, to unravel under Dutch’s touch.

Dutch grunted and brought his other hand to my clit. This caused me to jerk into Dutch’s grip allowing him more access to my neck. Dutch practically growled as he slammed his lips back onto mine once again. His tongue invaded my mouth, connecting with mine. However I could hardly kiss him back due to my moans of pleasure from Dutch’s thrusts. Dutch rubbed my clit in circles and I couldn’t control the jerks my body was making.

A familiar tingle in my stomach formed and a yearning for the upcoming orgasm filled me and it had me panting for more and jerking my body so that both Dutch’s and my hips were meeting together, allowing for his thrusts to hit deeper.

I could stop the moans as my orgasm was quickly approaching. It had me clutching onto Dutch and pulling him as close as I could possibly get him to me.

Dutch looked at me with a smirk (which he never removed).

“Are you going to cum sweetheart?” He asked and I nodded, throwing my head back in pleasure.

It was all too much to handle. The pleasure was flowing through me and I was shaking, it felt that good. From Dutch’s hard thrusts to the lack of oxygen from Dutch’s grip on my neck, I could almost feel the coil snap within me.

I brought my hand up to Dutch’s hand which was wrapped firmly around my neck. I placed my hand on top of his, appreciating the coolness of his rings on my hot skin. I then pulled it at an attempt to let sit back into my lungs as I felt I was going to pass out at any point.

The water from the river hit our legs, the tide coming closer to shore as the day progressed to night. I rubbed my right leg up and down his leg as he thrusted himself into me.

I would never forget the feeling that I was feeling at this moment. I never wanted it to end, it felt so good. I just wanted Dutch to fuck me forever, I could get used to the way that Dutch fills me up so nicely.

The coil that was holding me together was just about to snap, I could feel it. It would only take a couple more thrusts before I would cum on Dutch’s dick.

“I’m going to cum! Dutch, yes, oh my god, I’m going to cum. Please Dutch, faster!” I moaned out, no longer holding back as I was desperate to cum.

“C’mon Y/N, come for me. You know you want to,” the smirk was evident in his voice but god I did want to cum. I wanted to cum so bad, I would do anything at this point.

One last thrust was all it took before the coil snapped and I was cumming around Dutch’s dick, hard. I screamed in pleasure as the pressure finally overwhelmed me. I gripped Dutch hard and clenched around him, causing Dutch to groan in pleasure.

My head was thrown back and my eyes (although were already shut) were squeezed shut and I could bet that Dutch’s back would be scratched to pieces due to my nails gliding down his back.

It only took a couple of more thrusts and Dutch was cumming in me, his cum filling me to the brim. I moaned at the feeling of his cum painting my walls whilst he was still buried in me.

Dutch let out a quiet, “fuck”, letting me know he enjoyed this just as much as I did.

We sat there for a while, trying to regain our breathing. We were panting crazily, both our stamina depleted from the dirty act we had just completed.

“I hope you have learnt your lesson Miss L/N.” Was all Dutch said before he pulled himself out and stood up, giving me a once over before grabbing his clothes.

Without even sparing me a glance he put his clothes on. During this time, I frowned, wondering why he was acting so cold. Usually the people I’ve been with showed some sort of aftercare whether it was one last kiss, cleaning me up or even giving me some cuddles before leaving. Dutch however gave me nothing. He just left me in the sand and put his clothes on.

With one last glance he walked off in the direction of the camp, leaving me, extremely naked and extremely embarrassed that all of this had just happened the way that it just did.

Over the next couple of days, Dutch hasn’t talked to me. He refused to even look in my direction. It was like nothing had happened between us whatsoever and it felt like the hospitality that I should’ve received when I first came here.

I felt used and abused.

Now that he had gotten his way with me, he wanted nothing to do with me. Like there was nothing else he wanted from me. He didn’t even want to talk to me.

The worst part of it all was that Molly O’Shea loved this.

Molly would sit there and smirk at me whilst she clung onto him like he was going to disappear at any moment. It annoyed me to no end that she had to throw it out there to me constantly that ‘Dutch was hers’ or that ‘I was never woman enough for Dutch’.

So I did what I only thought was possible.

I decided to leave the camp. They couldn’t keep me here anymore. Especially since the leader Mr Dutch Van Der Linde didn’t want even acknowledge me as a part of the gang, so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind me leaving.

I made sure to do it at the middle of the night. There would only be one man on patrol duty and that was Javier. Javier had no idea that I was going to escape, just like the rest of them.

That was because I didn’t escape from the front road where the gang usually rode in. No, I escaped via the woods. I ran through the woods until I eventually made it back to the road that lead to Rhodes. It was from there that I managed to hitch a ride from a lovely stranger with the name Hewitt and he drove me back to the farm on his carriage.

When I arrived back to the farm I had no idea what I was going to see. The feelings I felt had never caused me to vomit from shock, pain, anger and grief all at once. The breath in my lungs was no longer there and I struggled to breathe.

What was before me was my house on fire and in front of me, was Dutch, holding a gun to my fathers head.

I had no idea how they managed to become one step ahead. I hadn’t said anything about it and I had never made any plans until tonight to even leave so how the hell did Dutch know that I was going to leave the gang and how the hell did he get here before I did?

Dutch turned to look at me with a smirk on his face. He didn’t say anything, he just looked back at my father who was on his knees and looking at me with an apologetic look on his face.

It was then that Dutch pulled the trigger, killing my father.

I watched as my fathers life flashed before his eyes before his life faded right in front of me and he fell to the floor, a bullet in the middle of his forehead, blood pouring everywhere.

Dutch then turned to me and chuckled. It was a deep chuckle that truly showed how evil he was. He killed my father and my sister was no where to be seen; presumably dead. It was all because of him.

“Miss L/N, did you really think you’d be able to escape from me?” Dutch then walked forward and raised his gun, placing it to my head. “No one escapes from the Van Der Linde gang.”

It was then that he pulled the trigger and all I saw was black.

Hello everyone!

I hope you all enjoy reading this long and extremely unedited imagine which I went way overboard with. But hey, the anon wanted rough, I went there on all levels.

Anyway, thank you for the reads and I will see you next Tuesday maybe.

- REDDEADINMYBED

[kasienda]

Restorative Justice - Chapter 3 - Circle Checkin

Summary: Chloé has never been a fan of Ms. Bustier’s community building activities. In fact, she detests them. She doesn’t want to learn about the drab boring lives of her peers. And she absolutely can’t stand it when their confessions make her feel things. Feelings that she doesn’t even have names for. But when Adrien unknowingly shares his struggles with his double life, Chloé vows she will do anything to get Ladybug set things right. Even if it means pissing off the heroine. Chloé was already mad at her anyway.

Chapter 1 - Community Circle

Chapter 2 - Preparation

Chapter 3 - Circle Checkin

Chloé’s sat cross legged with her right foot swinging back and forth rapidly. So fast, the white flat fell off her foot into the empty space in the circle of the six chairs Ms. Bustier had set up for their restorative circle. She hadn’t made a centerpiece this time, and Chloé found herself missing the visual anchor point the collection of knick knacks usually provided, and the posters ordaining the back wall from their last research progress was not cutting it. And Chloé was desperate for any distraction as her gut felt like a ship trapped at sea during a monsoon. She was trying to ignore the sensation, as she instead glared at the four remaining empty seats anxiously waiting for the others to show up. Ms. Bustier put a hand on her shoulder from the seat to her right. “It’s okay to be nervous, Chloé,” she said gently. “This is a big step you’re taking. However it goes, I’m proud of you for trying.” Chloé scoffed. She would never admit that the words calmed her if only a smidge. Surely, even if Marinette never forgave her, never let Chloé see Pollen again, this would still help the heroine, and by extension, Adrien. And maybe all of Paris. But Chloé could care less about that. As if summoned by her thoughts, her childhood friend walked in at that moment. He was a solid ten minutes early, and the knot in her stomach loosened slightly. This was going to happen. She was going to do this. “Good afternoon, Adrien,” Ms. Bustier greeted warmly. “Thank you for coming today. Feel free to take a seat anywhere in the circle.” “Good afternoon, Ms. Bustier. You asked me to come, so I came,” he said with a polite smile. Then he turned to Chloé and his face softened. “Hey Chlo. I told Nathalie to give your butler a call to set something up for us.” He was smiling at her genuinely. And it wasn’t a fake model smile! And that made warmth burst in her chest. He wasn’t mad at her the way he was mad at the others. “That’s great, Adri-kins! I can’t wait!” Of course, he wasn’t mad at her. She never kept secrets from him. He moved to take the seat next to her until she threw her arms across the wooden seat to block him. “No!” she objected. “You can’t sit here!” Adrien took a startled step back. “I can’t?” he asked, completely perplexed. Even Ms. Bustier raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Césaire needs to sit here,” Chloé announced haughtily, as if her arrogance alone would make her desires a reality. It always seemed to work for her mother. “Alya?” Ms. Bustier repeated. “Why?” “Our circle will go better if Alya sits next to me,” the blonde declared and snapped her lips closed without a word of explanation. Her teacher sighed, but didn’t comment, her attention on a purple clipboard in her lap. “Umm… okay?” Adrien agreed, but his brows were furrowed together in complete confusion. “What’s our circle about?” he asked. “Betrayal,” Chloé told him. He laughed. She didn’t. Neither did Ms. Bustier.

Keep Reading on Ao3

“Oh, you’re serious,” he quickly concluded, his face turning serious. He rubbed the back of his neck like he always did when he felt awkward. “I… I’m uh… I’m ready to listen?” “Thank you, Adrien,” the teacher said. “That’s all we can ask.” He plodded over to the seat on the other side of the teacher. “So, is it okay if I sit over here?” “Certainly!” Chloé beamed, the choppy storm in her stomach calming a bit. Marinette entered that at that moment. Or rather, she tripped over the threshold and fell face first onto the classroom floor. She managed to mostly catch herself, but at the cost of dropping her back which hit the ground with a loud thud before sending her notes and pencils scattering across the room. Chloé rolled her eyes at the scene. Marinette was so clumsy. To think, this was the defender of Paris. The part time hero just laid there for a second. Adrien was already across the room at her side. “Marinette!” Ms Bustier called. “Are you alright? “Yeah,” she groaned. “I’m fine. Nothing I haven’t experienced ten times before,” she said, her voice flat even as Adrien hauled her to her feet. “Uh! Th-thank you!” she stammered, pink blooming across her cheeks as Adrien hauled her to her feet. “Think nothing of it,” he told her, his voice calm and polite. But he still wasn’t looking at her. Chloé couldn’t help the burst of sadistic satisfaction that burst in her chest that Adrien was mad at his friends and not at her. Nino showed up before Marinette had finished collecting her things off the floor. Marinette sat next to Adrien without prompting. Nino tried to sit next to Chloé, no doubt to allow his girlfriend to sit next to her best friend. Chloé was about to say something, but Ms. Bustier beat her to it. “Nino, would you please sit next to Marinette? That is apparently Alya’s seat.” And Chloé was inordinately pleased that Ms. Bustier was just going along with her plan. “Oh…” Nino said, dropping his bag onto the seat, and tugging with one arm on his own shoulder. “Umm… I’m not sure she’s coming,” he shared, settling into his seat and adjusting the brim of his red hat. “What?” Chloé bit out. Nino threw a startled glance in her direction. “Yeah, she said something came up with the twins?” “But she has to be here! This won’t work without her!” Chloé objected, storming to her feet with her hands thrown to either side in balled fists. Marinette frowned at her. Ms. Bustier put a hand on Chloé’s shoulder to gently urge her to sit back down, which she did. But it didn’t help her calm down. Ms. Bustier turned her head towards the opposite side of the circle. “Nino, Marinette, can you both please text Alya and tell her that this is really important? And that we would be honored if she was willing to participate?” They both whipped out their phones. Chloé did too. Please!!!!!! I know we’re not friends, but this won’t work without you. I need your help!!! The moments ticked by. “Did she respond?” Ms Bustier asked. The others shook their heads. Chloé gripped the side of her chair. She was going to kill Césaire. She should have known the other girl wouldn’t trust her. She should have come up with a contingency plan. Then her phone buzzed. She glanced at it. I don’t want to betray her. You’ll be helping her! I might not ever play the flute again. Chloé bit her lip in aggravation. Of all the stupid selfish way-to-miss-the-point objections. But… insulting Alya wouldn’t get her to show up. The girl who gave you your flute is here. There was no response. Her phone said that the message had been delivered. The doorway remained empty. Ms Bustier cleared her throat. “Chloé, would you like to continue with just the four of us? Or would you like us to reschedule for a day all five of you can attend?” Chloé held up one finger. “Give me just a minute. She’ll be here. I swear!” “Is Alya texting you back?” Marinette demanded, her furious blue eyes glaring holes into Chloé’s blouse. Chloé ignored her in favor of tapping out her text. She doesn’t know it, but she needs you. Alya’s form filled up the doorway a few seconds later. She had to have been standing outside the whole time. She didn’t step in. Just stood in the open door, her eyes flitting to each person in the circle in turn before landing on Chloé with a dark glare. “Alya!” Ms. Bustier greeted. “I’m so glad you could make it after all. Would you please close the door and take a seat?” The brunette hesitated for another instant, but then stalked to her seat. “What about the twins?” Nino asked her, as she dropped her bag unceremoniously to the floor. Only then did her hazel eyes leave Chloé’s form. She smiled brightly at her boyfriend. “Nora said she could make it after all. Sorry to have kept you all waiting.” “That’s okay,” Ms. Bustier smiled warmly. “We’ll begin now. Chloé has asked you all here today because she wants to make amends with all of you.” Marinette’s bright blue eyes whipped to Chloé and her jaw fell open in shock. “Chloé?” she echoed as if the words could not compute. “Wants to make amends?” Marinette’s eyebrows rose into her hairline in shock. Nino just shrugged, and Adrien nodded to her with a small smile. He believed that she could do this. Chloé’s cheeks warmed, and she had to look back down into her lap. “She could start by dropping the lies,” Alya bit out sarcastically, slumping backwards into her chair. Chloé winced. Alya hadn’t figured it out. Some reporter, Chloé thought scathingly. “Which brings us to our usual agreements,” Ms. Bustier cut in before the back and forth could take over. She held up the usual list. “I know tensions may get high in this room before this circle is over. That only makes these norms more important. I want to remind you all specifically to speak and listen with respect. Do you think you can manage that, Alya?” The brunette hung her head. “Yes, Ms. Bustier.” “I encourage you all to also pay special attention to the “Speak your truth” norm. It is difficult to come to a place of healing if you don’t get everything off your chest first. Are there any questions about that?” They all looked at each other as if to see if anyone else would speak. No one did. “And last, a reminder that every single one of you needs to respect the talking piece. It will always make a full circle so that after every revelation each of you will have a chance to share your thoughts and feelings. It can make things a bit awkward to wait for the piece to come to you to respond, and we may need a bit of practice if emotions get high. But try to remember to use it and to respect it. Can you all agree to these norms?” Chloé was the first to throw her thumb up, but all the others quickly followed suit. “So, to begin…” “Actually, Ms. Bustier,” Chloé interjected. She could barely hear the words leave her mouth over the roaring in her own ears. Her heart was threatening to stain her black and white striped shirt with red with it’s valiant effort to leap out of her chest. “I was hoping we could start with a circle check-in? I prepared one myself.” The others stared at her in disbelief. Chloé never said anything during circles. Not ever. Even Nino had raised an eyebrow at her. Chloé felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She glanced away and her gaze landed on Adrien who was smiling at her in gentle encouragement. She lifted her chin proudly to look at Ms. Bustier straight on. “Of course, Chloé. This is our talking piece for the day.” She held up a little stuffed grey tabby kitten. It had black marbles for eyes and a little pink button for a nose. It was rather adorable. “It was a gift from a student last year. She specifically said she wanted it to be as a talking piece because she said it always made her calm. I call her Dottie.” Adrien chuckled. Marinette shook her head in disapproval of the silly joke. Chloé shaking with too many nerves to think about silly names. She instead clutched the soft striped kitten to her thudding chest. “My prompt is simple. Your name and other…  nicknames or alter egos you go by!” Chloé faced Alya’s glare head on. “I’ll go first.” “My name is Chloé, but others know me as Queen Bee.” Adrien laughed again. Marinette rolled her eyes. Nino was still a wall that Chloé had never learned to interpret. Alya bit her lip. Chloé held out the fake kitten to Alya, but she didn’t let go even when the other girl accepted it into her hand. “I didn’t lie,” Chloé told her. “What?” “You said I needed to drop the lies. I didn’t lie,” Chloé said one more time, and let go of the fuzzy talking piece. Alya’s dark eyebrows furrowed together as she considered Chloé’s words. She pet the fake kitten as her hazel eyes turned back to the group, and it only took a second when her eyes blew open as wide as the Seine. She turned back to Chloé in shock. Chloé nodded. She had won this battle. But that fact did nothing to assuage her nerves. This was actually happening. And her stomach continued to churn. Chloé ignored it. “Alya?” Bustier prompted. “Are you alright?” “Uh... yes... I’m fine. I just...” she took a deep breath. “My name is Alya. And some people call me… Rena Rouge.” Chloé wanted croon victoriously, but that would have ruined the dead silence that followed that pronouncement. Adrien’s face went blank - white as a ghost. Marinette turned pink, her fists clenched and shaking on her knees, and her eyes flashed, hot with anger. How many times had Chloé seen that look on Marinette’s face? How many times had Chloé been the one to cause it? Alya passed the piece to Nino. He held it dumbly for a second, his dark eyes searching his girlfriend’s intently. “You sure?” Nino asked her softly. It was good he didn’t look at Marinette who was shaking her head in agitation. Alya nodded once. Nino turned back to the group with a megawatt smile. Chloé could almost see what Adrien saw in him at that moment. He was so trusting. That’s all it took for him. No arguments. No reasons. Alya’s word was all he needed. What would it be like to have a friend like that? “My name is Nino. I’m also Carapace.” He passed the piece to Marinette who was now shaking with the violence of an active volcano. But for once, Chloé was not on the receiving end of the do-gooder’s rage. Marinette was shooting metaphorical daggers at her best friend. “You planned this?” Marinette screeched. Her hands shook so hard it was amazing she hadn’t dropped the talking piece. “With Chloé?!” “Marinette, I-” Alya started. “She didn’t-” Chloé said simultaneously. “Ladies,” Ms Bustier interrupted smoothly. “Marinette has the talking piece. You will have a chance to share your piece, but now it’s your turn to listen.” Chloé had to hand it to her. Ms. Bustier was taking the revelations in stride. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, her hands carefully placed on her knee, and all her attention was on Marinette. Her posture gave off only calm. “Marinette, you do not have to share. You’re always allowed to pass the piece,” Ms. Bustier told her. Chloé held her breath, praying and hoping with every muscle in her body that Marinette wouldn’t derail this whole thing before it even began. Marinette said nothing. Her eyes frantically shifted from one corner of the group even as she strangled the stuffed animal in her lap, causing it’s black marble eyes to protrude out. “Marinette?” Adrien prompted, turning to her in concern. “Are you okay?” Her panicked blue eyes seized on his even as she gulped for air. She opened her mouth but no words came out. “Guys, I think she’s having a panic attack!” Adrien exclaimed, jerking his chair back. He kneeled down next to Marinette, but she didn’t look at him. She didn’t seem to be looking at anything. Her eyes bugged out, seemingly sightless at the group around her, her face was ghostly pale, and her mouth worked soundlessly like it was searching for air when there was none to be found.   Chloé’s chest constricted painfully at the sight, her hands tightened around her chair. She had heard the phrase, ‘’panic attack” so many times in her life, but she hadn’t ever thought it would be like this. Not so physically awful. She had never been so frightened. Not when her parents fought, often throwing things at one another in the heat of their arguments - things that broke and shattered. Not when she had been taken hostage by akumas, or had to face Hawkmoth as Queen Bee. Because this was Ladybug. Reduced to this helpless state through words. Chloé’s words. Chloé had done this to her. To the heroine of Paris. Ms. Bustier stood up and kneeled down in front of Marinette. “Marinette, listen to me. Take my hand.” Marinette seized on it. “Tell me one thing that you can see.” “Y-your earrings,” she stuttered out, her blue eyes still overblown and wild. “That’s good. What color are they?” Ms. Bustier asked calmly. Chloé had no idea why Ms. Bustier was asking these pointless questions, but she was calm, and Chloé took comfort from that. “W-w-w…” Marinetted couldn’t get the word out. “Shhh…” Ms. Bustier soothed. “It’s okay. Take a deep breath. Try again.” “White!” she said fiercely. And Chloé breathed more easily. That determination. That was what Chloé expected from Ladybug. And at that point, Chloé risked a glance at the others in the room. Adrien was biting his own knuckle, his eyes glued to Marinette. Alya and Nino had their hands clasped firmly together, but they were also watching Marinette, their eyes glistening in concern. Ms. Bustier kept asking stupid questions about the room and about what Marinette could feel, and gradually, her eyes cleared and she started breathing normally. “There you are,” Ms. Bustier said calmly with a gentle smile. “Are you okay, now?” Marinette clutched the stuffed animal into her chest, her eyes still misty, and slowly nodded. “Sorry, I…” “None of that,” Ms. Bustier interrupted. “You have nothing to apologize for, Marinette. I think I’m the one that owes you an apology.” Startled blue eyes flew upwards. “What for?” “When Chloé requested this meeting, she asked me not to interview you beforehand for your side of the story. She said that you would never attend if you knew what it was about.” Marinette’s gaze fell to her feet once again. “She’s not wrong,” Marinette admitted in a whisper. Ms. Bustier nodded. “Be that as it may, it was still wrong of me to blindside you. I knew better. My training even emphasized to never enter into a restorative circle without talking to each of the affected parties first. So, I definitely knew better, and I allowed myself to be convinced otherwise. That was wrong of me.” “Th-thank you,” Marinette stuttered, her gaze glancing downwards. “For saying that. I don’t think a teacher has ever apologized to me before.” “I also want you to know that you’re safe. No one here is going to hurt you. No one here is going to make you share anything you don’t want to share.” Marinette sighed before glancing up at the teacher who was still kneeling in front of her. “But you already know,” she accused. Ms. Bustier nodded in understanding. “I think I do have a guess at this point, yes. But I don’t know anything. Not for sure. Not until you tell me, and only if you want to. Do you understand?” Marinette nodded. “I think we should adjourn,” Ms. Bustier announced as she rose to her feet. “And reconvene if you all want to on another day... after we’ve all had some sleep, when you feel more prepared to talk about things? Or we don’t have to meet again if you don’t want to. Your participation here is one hundred percent voluntary.” Chloé wanted to object. They were so close. But she knew Marinette. Anything Chloé said was likely to make her less willing to talk. Marinette hesitated and looked around. “I… actually think we should continue if… if you have time?” “Are you sure, Marinette?” Ms. Bustier asked. “I just… I can’t go to my next class right now. And if I go home, I’m going to just obsess over this. And I’m going to panic. And I don’t want to be akumatized,” and she broke off into sobs. Every muscle in Chloé’s body was tight as the weight of Marinette’s words registered. It had never occurred to the blonde when she orchestrated this that Marinette could be akumatized. Angry beyond comprehension? Absolutely! But scared? Ladybug was never scared! And akumatized? Certainly, Ladybug couldn’t be akumatized! Chloé had assumed that her miraculous protected her somehow. Sure, the Bee Miraculous didn’t seem to protect her, but… Ladybug was special. Wasn’t she? But turns out, Marinette was just a normal girl. A girl with feelings and fears and incredibly difficult struggles. Nino and Adrien both had reassuring hands on either side of her shoulders, but neither said anything. Marinette’s cries slowly ebbed. “If you want us to continue, why don’t you start by telling us how you’re feeling right now?” Ms. Bustier suggested kindly, backing away and moving to her seat within the small circle. “Again, only if you want to.” Marinette wiped her eyes, took a breath, and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “I feel... betrayed,” she finally said, turning toward Alya. “You’re supposed to be my best friend. I can’t believe you would conspire with Chloé! The person you know has bullied me for years.” Chloé flicked a piece of lint off her shoulder, careful to not to look at Marinette and not to let anything show on her face. “I mean, it was bad enough when you didn’t believe me about Lila…” Alya sucked in a breath at the mention of Lila Rossi, her chin trembling, and her hazel eyes flooding with tears. Marinette continued. “But you knew about Chloé and how she’s treated me. And now you’re working with her to corner me?” Chloé shook her head in agitation. Marinette was getting it all wrong. Alya hadn’t wanted anything to do with her. “Calm down, Dupain-Cheng,” she interjected impatiently. “It wasn’t like that. Trust me, you’ll-” “Chloé, please respect the talking piece,” Ms. Bustier cut in harshly. The blonde pressed her lips together. And when Marinette’s icy blue gaze swung to her and pinned her in place, Chloé realized she really shouldn’t have spoken yet. “You want me to trust you?” Marinette started, her voice was cold and her eyes flashed, all trace of her shakiness from panic attack had evaporated. Even the redness in her eyes from crying seemed to have vanished. This was Ladybug’s game face when she was ready to squash an akuma. And her gaze was locked onto Chloé. “When have you ever deserved my trust?” Marinette demanded. “When you bullied me for years after I tried so hard to be your friend? When you stole a miraculous? When you put an entire train of people in jeopardy so that you could pretend to be a hero?” Chloé squared her shoulders. This was no different than all the other times Marinette had laid into her. Wasn’t it though? This time, Chloé was trying to help. “And when you were akumatized because Ladybug didn’t bring you back into the team, I felt frustrated that you felt betrayed. Ladybug has to consider the whole well-being of Paris! Not just the feelings of one person. It makes me feel like you can’t see beyond yourself to the greater need. It makes me feel like you don’t understand the responsibility of wielding a miraculous.” And now, Chloé could not even pretend to herself that this wasn’t different than every other time Marinette had called her out or challenged her. But Chloé held herself calm and stoic. If there was one thing she had endless practice at, it was taking a verbal beating. “And you pulling us into a circle and pressuring miraculous holders to reveal themselves? I again, don’t feel like I can trust you!” The rest of it Chloé knew she deserved, but this?! This pissed her off. “May I have the talking piece?” Chloé requested, her voice too high and threatening to break beneath her.   For a second, Marinette hesitated, but then she passed the piece to Adrien. Chloé watched carefully as the striped kitten exchanged hands from Adrien to Ms. Bustier to Chloé. “For the record,” Chloé ground out the second Dottie was in her hand. “I hate circles. This was not my idea. I tried to get you to talk to me just you and me. I tried for weeks! I tried here at school, and I left you private messages and public messages.” Or bee signals. Whatever. Marinette would know what she was talking about. “You chose to ignore me.” “Typical Chloé,” Marinette bit out scathingly. “You don’t get your way, and you throw a tantrum.” “Marinette,” Bustier interceded. “Speak with respect and respect the talking piece.” The girl sighed. “May I have the talking piece?” Chloé hesitated. She wasn’t done, but she let it go, passing it to Alya again. The second Marinette’s hands were around it, words poured from her. “I just don’t understand why you’re doing this? Are you just trying to torture me? All of this is hard enough without you making it harder!” Chloé’s squirmed in her seat, her whole body shook with the effort of having to restrain the words that wanted to burst from her mouth. But she had to hold herself back. It was one of the hardest things Chloé had ever done. “And not just now! You’ve singled me out over and over, to the point where no one wanted to be my friend, not because of anything to do with me, but because they didn’t want to be targeted by you!” Marinette raged, her hands literally shaking in front of her. Her eyes were ice, and would have drilled holes through Chloé’s chest had they been able. “You’ve mocked me, you’ve dismissed my voice, and you’ve bullied me for years until I doubted myself and my value. Until I didn’t believe that I had anything worthwhile to say or that anyone should like me. To the point where I dreaded coming to school. And I never understood why! I mean, what did I ever do to you?!" "You wouldn't stop bringing me macarons!" Chloé exploded. And everyone was so startled by this admission. All eyes turned to her. Ms. Bustier didn’t even remind her to respect the talking piece. "What?" Marinette screeched back in cold disbelief. "You bullied me because I brought you cookies?!" Chloé’s whole form quivered in agitation. "I needed you to stop,” she admitted. “And you wouldn't! So I had to get you to hate me." "Why did you need me to stop?" Marinette asked, her voice quiet and her dark eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Chloé hunched her shoulders wishing she could hide in a corner. "My own mother doesn't love me. Why would anyone else?" she whispered, her gaze locked on her own pearl white flats. To her horror, her throat closed off and her eyes burned. Before she could cut it off, she was crying. She wiped at the tears angrily. She hated crying. It ruined her makeup. "E-everyone leaves eventually. My mom left. Adele left…” Chloé glanced up across the circle. “Adrien left,” she added softly. A hiss of displeasure erupted from the blond boy two seats away. “No one ever stays,” Chloé continued. “I'm not worth it. It’s better if I never let myself hope that they will." Shocked silence flooded the room, only broken by Chloé’s sniffs. Some small part of Chloé felt free with the admission. These were words she had never before said out loud. The larger part of her felt embarrassed that she had let Marinette, of all people, goad her into admitting any vulnerability. And then another part that hated that she was crying in front of anyone. Tears were a weakness. If they saw her tears, they would know they could destroy her. Ms. Bustier cleared her throat before speaking. "That was very brave of you to share, Chloé." Chloé cried harder. Adrien broke the circle at that point, leaping across the circle. His arms wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “I’m so sorry, Chlo,” he whispered into her hair. “I didn’t understand.” “It’s fine, Adri-kins,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I didn’t understand it either.” Then, she pulled away and stubbornly wiped the tears from her face. “We haven’t even started yet. Go sit back down.” He didn’t move immediately, instead staring at her in concern. “Please?” He nodded, and moved back to his seat.   Chloé turned her attention back to the circle, back to Marinette. They stared at each other for a second before Marinette handed the kitten once again to Adrien, nodding toward Chloé as she did so. And Chloé couldn’t fight the warmth she felt at the gesture. Marinette wanted to hear what she had to say. Ladybug wanted to hear what she had to say. When Ms. Bustier handed her the stuffed animal, Chloé didn’t immediately speak. She instead fiddled with the soft toy in her hands, hoping the kitten would give her some inspiration. But at the end of the day, only Chloé could tell her own story. “Maybe I didn’t handle a miraculous falling into my lap very well,” Chloé admitted, “but it was the first time in my whole life I realized that I could be something more. Something meaningful. And yeah, I was an idiot. Too impatient for an opportunity to prove myself, I created one. Not my finest moment. “As for not being disappointed that Ladybug benched me? I’m sorry. I don’t know how to make myself not feel that way. I feel like Ladybug dangled a way forward for me and then she took it away.” Marinette inhaled sharply, but Chloé couldn’t look at her. She stared at her own feet. “And I know it’s not her responsibility to save my soul or whatever,” Chloé continued rapidly, “but I looked up to her. And the idea that she might see some small speck of potential in me, that she let me fight beside her as her partner when Chat Noir was incapacitated, that she trusted me with a miraculous even after I had already proven I did not deserve it… it meant a lot.” And honestly, it meant even more when Chloé had realized who Ladybug was. Because Marinette had more reasons than most anyone to hate her. “As for bringing you all here and pressuring you to come clean?” Chloé looked up then and stared at Marinette unflinchingly. “I do not apologize for that. When I figured you all out, I wasn’t going to say anything. My family was targeted! I was manipulated so easily. I understand the importance of keeping identities secret in a way that I absolutely didn’t in the beginning of all this.” They were all staring at her in rapt attention, but Chloé found herself unfazed. She had momentum now. It would be harder to stop than it would be to just keep going. “But two weeks ago, in our circle you were whining about breaking under too much responsibility. That you felt alone. That you were scared someone else would pay the price if you slipped. Since then, you have fallen asleep during class multiple times and you’ve woken up screaming. Separately, you have broken down in class several times. You are drowning. You need support.” Then Chloé pointed dramatically at her childhood friend, but her blue gaze never left the Marinette’s face. “Adrien is also drowning.” “I’m fine,” Adrien interjected with a frown. Chloé’s blue eyes flashed to him. “Shut up, Adri-kins. You are not fine. I’ve watched you withdraw. I’ve watched you paste on that stupid model smile. I’ve watched you absorb hurt after hurt when your friends don’t trust you, or don’t see you.” Nino’s head snapped up at this. “W-what?” he gasped. Even Marinette threw a startled look in his direction. He shrank under Chloé’s impatient glare before turning to the rest of the group with a shrug. “She’s kinda right,” he admitted with a hand to his neck. “You’re withdrawing from… us?” Nino asked with a slight tremor, gesturing to himself, Alya and Marinette. Adrien grimaced. “Sorry,” he offered. Chloé rolled her eyes. Of course, Adrien would feel guilty for hurting his friends by admitting they were hurting him. “There’s clearly a lot for us all to talk about here,” Ms. Bustier interjected. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time, and we’ll come back to this, okay Nino?” Nino adjusted his hat, and then nodded. Ms. Bustier turned back to her. “Chloé, you were saying?” ”Umm… right,” Chloé slipped a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, and looked up again at the girl across the circle. At the girl she had been terrified to befriend, at the girl she had tortured for years instead, and at the girl who had made Chloé believe that maybe… just maybe, Chloé could do something good. “Marinette, when I tried to talk to you over and over this last week, I was trying to help. And I’m clearly rubbish at helping, but Ms. Bustier suggested that maybe I was the one that needed help. “I know that you don’t trust me,” Chloé said, surprised at the pressure building in her throat at the admission. She waved dramatically to the rest of the circle. “But everyone here besides me is someone you trust and have trusted. I already know and I haven’t said anything! I didn’t even tell Alya when I asked her to do this. She didn’t want to. She said she would never betray Ladybug. I think she changed her mind when she figured it out only a few minutes ago. I’m forcing your hand, yes. But whether you believe me or not, I’m trying to help you.” Blue eyes from the other side of the circle pierced through her. Marinette looked like she was going to cry again, but maybe it was a different kind of cry than the one before. “I’m asking you to be brave, Dupain-Cheng. Like you are like all of the fucking time. So that you, and all of us can support each other through the crazy things we have experienced.” She passed the piece to Alya again. And now that Chloé wasn’t talking, she could feel how badly she was shaking. Ms. Bustier put a hand on her knee and squeezed. Chloé looked up into the eyes of her teacher who was smiling at her. And was she crying, too? Why was she crying? “M-Marinette,” Alya interrupted her thoughts. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to corner you. I just wanted you to know you’re not alone. That I always want to have your back. I’m sorry that I have clearly already failed in that in more than one way. And I hope you can forgive me.” Alya’s voice cracked on the final word, and she immediately shoved the talking piece into Nino’s hands. He rubbed his girlfriend’s back even as he passed the stuffed kitten to Marinette with a gentle smile and a wink. Marinette flipped the piece in her hands over and over again. “Alya, you’re already forgiven on both counts. Our friendship is stronger than all that,” she said with a bright smile. Then she turned towards Chloé. “Chloé, I didn’t realize how much I was hurting. I didn’t think anyone had noticed. I feel so invisible so much of the time. I… am surprised that you were the one to see through me. I feel like there’s so much more I should say to you after everything you shared, but I guess I should start with the one thing you want me to say.” She turned to everyone at the group and smiled nervously. “I suspect like all of you already know, but my name is Marinette, but most of Paris knows me as Ladybug.” She held the piece to Adrien, but he didn’t take it. His green eyes had blown as wide as the Seine, staring at her like he’d just been hit by a bus. “I... What?!” he spluttered. “I thought you were Multimouse!" Marinette frowned at him. "Umm... how would you know that? Only one person knows that." He looked sheepish, and plucked the still offered talking piece from her hands. "My name is Adrien, but I’m also... Chat Noir.” Chloé rolled her eyes. Had they seriously not realized where this was going before Marinette had freaked out?! Sheesh! Marinette shook her head furiously. “No, no, no, no! You’re Aspik,” she told him. Adrien rubbed the back of his neck even as he smiled sadly at her. “Yeah, that didn’t work out so well, did it?” Marinette’s blue eyes flooded with tears once again and she immediately threw her arms around his shoulders. “Chaton! I’m so sorry!” she cried. His arms wrapped around her narrow waist. “What for?” he asked softly. “You were trapped in that loop for months because of me!” He clutched her to him harder. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t have all the information. I was the idiot that accepted the miraculous. I should have said no immediately. I… I just wanted a chance to impress you. As me.” She jerked back and looked up into his face. “I was already impressed. With both of you!” “Were you?” he asked, the pain clear in his voice.

She threw herself at him again. “Yes!” she insisted into his neck. “I’m so sorry you ever felt otherwise. I’ll make it up to you.” He smiled and let his head fall onto hers. “I can’t believe you’ve been right in front of me this whole time,” he admitted, grinning like an idiot. Chloé wouldn’t say it out loud. Not for a long time anyway, but they were rather cute all blushing and smiling in each other’s arms. But they were also getting distracted. Because this stupid fucking circle wasn’t finished yet. There was still so much more to talk about. She cleared her throat dramatically. Marinette shot out of Adrien’s arms, her flushed cheeks turning as red as her alterego’s suit. “Chloé!” Alya hissed, her phone out filming the exchange. “You’re ruining it!” Chloé harrumphed. She had ruined nothing! She should get all the credit for this.

...

Chapter 4: Acknowledging Harm

[msclaritea]

Upon the Clear Distinction Between Fandom and the Baker Street Irregulars

BY LYNDSAY FAYE

November 30, 2012

In light of the ever-expanding popularity of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries in conjunction with recent adaptations including the Warner Brothers films, the BBC series, and the CBS reimagining, it falls to me to discuss certain disturbing tendencies on the part of new devotees to refer to that venerable institution, the Baker Street Irregulars, as a “fandom” when it is actually a literary society. The youth of the Sherlockian world will be excused for making this dare I say elementary error, since the case for the distinction has not been hitherto laid out. Following the summation of this article, however, fans and traditional Sherlockians alike will have reached a much clearer understanding, and the unfortunate misnomer of referring to the present Irregulars as a “fandom” will doubtless cease and be swiftly forgotten.

(Note: for the purposes of this intellectual exercise, the possibility that the BSI may potentially be a storied and erudite literary society and a happily thriving fandom simultaneously will be ignored. This decision was made in light of the fact that a noun cannot be two things concurrently, the way the Empire State Building is not both a functioning office tower and a tourist destination, and the way Bill Clinton is not both a former president and a saxophone player. Arguments that the BSI is peopled by both cultured readers and by eager fans would only muddy the issue, and therefore will not be entertained here.)

According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word fandom dates from 1903 and is defined simply as “the realm of avid enthusiasts.” Although undoubtedly a positive, even a flattering definition, already we can see that this is an inaccurate way of describing the Baker Street Irregulars, founded in January of 1934 by Doubleday editor Christopher Morley and later permanently established as the premier Sherlockian society by Edgar W. Smith. While the BSI was conceived as a group of congenial, clubbable men who admittedly shared an avid enthusiasm for the Great Detective, no mention whatsoever is made in the definition of fandom of a taste for adult beverages, and the drinking of toasts to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s characters, which is of such import to the group as to be codified in the BSI’s by-laws. As a matter of fact, the words “Sherlock Holmes” appear nowhere in this document, while the words “drunk,” “drink,” “round,” and “toast” occur six times in the brief record. Describing the BSI as a fandom is thus clearly a counterfactual practice, and should be treated as such.

Of note, because the dates could potentially lead to confusion, is the fact that the Irregulars were founded in 1934 in New York City, at very close to the identical time period when the science fiction fandom was forming convivial societies of “avid enthusiasts” in order to discuss space travel, interplanetary colonization, their whip-smart literary contributions, and large-chested alien females. The Futurians, according to Frederik Pohl’s autobiography, were founded in 1934 in New York City; the Scienceers were founded in 1929 in New York City; the Los Angeles Fantasy Society was founded in 1934 in Los Angeles; and the National Fantasy Fan Federation was founded in 1941 in Boston. These societies in no way resembled the BSI, however, for their purpose was to discuss speculative, fictional adventures, while the BSI’s purpose (apart from toasting) was to discuss Sherlock Holmes. The Grand Game, as it’s called, a form of meta-scholarship, bears but scant resemblance to the doings of folk who pen Middle-Earth chronologies and dictionaries of the Klingon language. Those who suggest the BSI is a fandom will also note that, as a literary society, the BSI has always been peopled with thinkers and literary luminaries such as Isaac Asimov, while the Futurians boasted as one of their members Isaac Asimov, who was undoubtedly a different Isaac Asimov to the deservedly admired creative philosopher invested in the Irregulars.

One of the most self-evident differences between the Irregulars and those involved in fandom is the latter’s tendency to memorize an enormous amount of trivia regarding their specific preoccupations, be those preoccupations Battlestar Galactica or fiction featuring anthropomorphized dragons. A member of the Star Trek fandom, for instance, could readily inform an outsider that when Captain Picard was captured by the Cardassians, he insisted despite being cruelly tortured that the number of lights shown to him numbered four; such remarkable displays of knowledge are all too common among fandom enthusiasts. Invested members of the BSI could undoubtedly inform non-Sherlockians that Sherlock Holmes’s ancestors were country squires, that John Watson was an invalided member of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, and that Holmes is on record as having possessed three dressing gowns (blue, purple, and mouse), but as these are matters of historical fact, knowledge of them is much more akin to familiarity with the Gettysburg Address. I say again: do not succumb to lazy terminology and misidentify the BSI as a fandom. The one is concerned with an exceedingly popular series of crime stories, and the other is concerned with pop culture.

The activities of fans vs. traditional Sherlockians are hugely divergent. While fans come together to discuss their favorite sci-fi stories, television shows, and films, Sherlockians confine their conversation (and toasts) exclusively to the sixty stories, referred to as the “canon.” No mention is made of adaptations of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries; indeed, it is safe to say that the BSI as a whole is unaware of such bastardizations of the original writings, if indeed such things as movies and television shows based on the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle exist, which is doubtful. In addition, fandom engages in a pastime termed “cosplay,” defined by Wikipedia as “a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.” Such behavior would be anathema to a Baker Street Irregular, some of whom have been photographed dressing in Victorian garb and deerstalker hats.

Denizens of the fandom community fail to confine their “avid enthusiasm” to mere discussion of hobbits and tribbles; they also, as a group, have a marked tendency to collect memorabilia relevant to their favorite characters, spending precious funds in pursuit of items such as action figures and animation cells. A comic book collector would think absolutely nothing of paying triple digits for a prized mint-condition issue of Spider-Man, for example, while my copy of the 1892 issue of the Strand Magazine…no, strike that, I beg your pardon, the comparison is similar but ultimately misleading. Irregulars of my acquaintance have amassed collections of Sherlock Holmes art, Sherlock Holmes books, Sherlock Holmes knickknacks, Sherlock Holmes pins, Sherlock Holmes translations, Sherlock Holmes reference volumes, and Sherlock Holmes talismans such as magnifying glasses or pipes, but as these are clearly objets d’art, they find no equivalency within the realm of fandom.

It is of particular importance to note that fandom participants often write what is termed fanfiction, fictional works featuring their beloved characters in various situations of the fan’s own imagining, defined as “stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work, rather than by the original creator.” Whenever a writer pens a story about a character created by another author, that tale falls under the umbrella of fanfiction, a practice that the Baker Street Irregulars would find both mystifying and vaguely distasteful. In fact, the mere concept of writing new stories starring characters not belonging to the author would strike dismay into the hearts of the BSI, who very often write and read pastiches featuring Sherlock Holmes and John Watson (a pastiche is defined as “a work of art, literature, film, music, or architecture that openly imitates the work of a previous artist”). As you have already recognized, no doubt, pastiche is entirely different from fanfiction, as fanfiction is specified as being penned by fans, and as I have argued previously, the Baker Street Irregulars are not fans but rather a literary society, and thus are categorically incapable of writing fanfiction. The notion that they could be both we have already dismissed as specious.

One must bear in mind as well the ironclad argument that the BSI was founded in the tradition of the great metropolitan men’s clubs of the 1930s, and thus bears no resemblance whatsoever to fandoms, which are largely concerned with grown men and women wearing tights. I find this line of reasoning particularly compelling, since it is common knowledge that once a group forms around a certain idea, it remains always the identical entity, indistinguishable in its modern incarnation from its origins, free from growth, change, or adaptation. Admittedly the BSI is no longer exclusively for men, but that is an admirable mark of progress and should be considered accordingly. Just as the company Apple Inc. sells small personal circuit boards hand-crafted by the artist Steve Wozniak (keyboard and screen not included), the BSI is emphatically not a fandom. And please stop referring to them by such blatantly fallacious terminology.

Lastly, a word upon the subject of respect for the gentleman who made our literary society possible, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. There are some who take mild offense to those who speak of the BSI as a fandom, but I am not of their number, though it is worth mentioning out of deference that Doyle would certainly be outraged by the term. So beloved a character was Sherlock Holmes to Doyle that he spoke of him always with the soft light of adoration in his eyes and a flush upon his cupid’s cheeks, joy suffusing his features whensoever the subject of his masterful sleuth was raised. Were Doyle to be reanimated and exposed to the neophytes who ignore all discrepancies and insist upon wrongly identifying the BSI as a fandom, his mighty love for his hero would so overwhelm him, and his fury at the misidentification swell into so vast a storm cloud of righteous rage, that he would probably decide to remain alive simply for the pure, unadulterated pleasure he derived from writing the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, and would deliver unto us sixty more cases. And lo, global warming would be reversed, and he would find a cure for herpes.

I trust that this article clears up any remaining confusion regarding the word fandom, and its woeful inexactitude when characterizing the Baker Street Irregulars. I likewise hope I have assured the reader the BSI cannot be both a respected literary society and a fandom, any more than Australia can be both a continent and an island. One earnestly hopes that this will settle the matter for good and all, and we can move on to other, better topics. In the meanwhile, I am going to don my deerstalker and write a story in which Sherlock Holmes fights the Cardassians, that being the sort of activity relevant to my interests. Thank you.

1. Am I wrong or is this a bit rude?

2. Why don’t we hear more stories about how Doyle actually loved Holmes? It’s as though people want the character to be remembered as hated.

Lyndsay Faye is the author of Dust and Shadow and The Gods of Gotham from Amy Einhorn Books/Putnam. She tweets @LyndsayFaye.

@elwinglyre @sarahthecoat @sussexbound @fellshish @artfulkindoforder @johnlockedness @ebaeschnbliah @tjlcisthenewsexy @madzither

source

[enchantingkittengaditor]

Born Into This | 01: Right Now

POV Hayley

“Ms. Atwell, can you please tell us all that you can remember leading up to the events?”

“Ok, it all truly started when TJ found something I can’t begin to explain in the lab after I got her an internship at the police station. Like me, she didn’t want to be apart of the mob world.”

“Hi, I came in to collect my case files, Edna,” I asked the elderly lady behind the front desk showing her my ID.

“Of course Miss. Atwell,” the lady behind the desk smiled at me as she went to go grab my files. While she was in the back I grabbed my phone, checking to see if anything bad had happened or if anyone figured out my past yet.

“Get in the cell, Stan!” one of the officers yelled at a man he was trying to get into a cell.

“Make me.”

“Oh my god,” I mumbled under my breath as I looked up to be met by the eyes of Sebastian Stan, one of the many underbosses of the Downey Mafia. This is great, just the person I didn’t want to see because where theirs a Stan there is always a Chris. And whichever Chris it was I didn’t want to see them here.

“Here you go, dear. It’s a shame isn’t it, all these men getting caught up in crime families it makes you think what their parents think of them doesn’t it. Anyway good luck with some of those cases, you’ll need it,” she said again as I quickly scurried off, still feeling the glare on my back from Sebastian in his cell.

“Watch your back bitch!” He screamed at me before the door slammed shut behind me.

God, I hope no one else noticed that he was talking to me. Let’s try and ignore it and see if Lizzy knows anything but till then I have to pick up TJ.

Me: WHERE ARE YOU? I FORGOT WHERE YOUR INTERNSHIP IS.

TJ: 5TH FLOOR, LAB. HAVE SOMETHING THAT MAY INTEREST YOU. ABOUT SEB & A CASE

Me: SEE YOU IN 5. TELL ME THEN. PHONE NOT SAFE. LIZ WORRIED.

I stepped out of the elevator on to the 5th-floor landing. The 5th floor was split between a state of the art lab and the Lawyer’s office, which makes TJ having her internship so much easier, even if I did forget where it was.

“Hi Anna, I’m here for my niece, the lab intern,” I said to the lady at the front desk inside the lab.

“Hey Aunt Hayley, can you come see this. If that’s alright Anna?” She queried her boss for the past few days.

“That’s fine but be quick your meant to be gone in five minutes,” Anna said from behind her desk.

“Thank you so much, Anna,” TJ responded to her as she led me to her small work station. “Have a look, tell me what you see.” She pointed at the microscope.

“Did you arrange cells to say ‘I love you’?” I asked her.

“Yes. Now Seb?”

“I’ll tell you more later. Then pizza and home to Lizzie,” I said putting my arm around her shoulder as we walked out of the lab.

“Should we bring Lizzie some pizza, she did have a big meeting with the idiot of Chris.”

“Maybe we go with veggie pizza. You know how those meetings can go.”

“That might be a good idea. How was your day? How was Seb?”

“I didn’t see him until I left and got his file. It was good. You?”

“It was so much fun. The science here is incredible, though I still want to be a lawyer like you and get away from the family business. I want to be on the right side of all this,” she said motioning to the police station.

“Good for you. Now pizza.”

“PIZZA!”

“You a weird child, now you still got your subway ticket?”

“Yes let’s go.”

“What happened then?”

“We got pizza and went home, it’s not rocket science,” I sassed at the judge.

“We’re home!” TJ shouted to Lizzie in the kitchen. “And you have red wine, what happened?”

“Chris happened,” she responded.

“Right we have pizza and you have wine, TJ you can either have wine or a coca-cola that’s in the fridge,” I said putting the pizza box on the table.

“I’m going with the coke.”

“For the next two hours, we sat at the table laughing and talking about our day. We also talked to TJ about her new school and everything we’d heard about it.”

“Was there anything else that went on that night?”

“Not that I can recall, though I would like to point out we did drink a few bottles of wine. So I’m sorry that I can’t remember what else happened.”

POV Sebastian

“Mr. Stan, what do you remember from the night of August 28th, 2022?”

“I’d been arrested at about 6 pm that day and I was sitting in the drunk tank glaring at officers while trying to sober up.”

“Is that all?”

“All that I can remember,” I stated back at them.

“Why were you arrested, by the way, Mr. Stan?”

“I was arrested for public intoxication among other things.”

“Congratulations, Stan you have made bail,” one of the officers said unlocking the cell door.

“You really need to get your act together Sebastian,” a voice said to me as I grabbed my things.

“Shut the fuck up Chris, I don’t have time for this. I have to…”

“You don’t have to do anything except explain all of this to Robert.”

“He knows?” I asked already regretting last night.

“Of course he knows. He knows everything that happens in this city, like the fact Hayley Atwell is your court-appointed attorney.”

“Well, that’s going to be fun.”

“You need something to eat. It’ll help sober you up.”

“What I need is to get out of the country.”

“That isn’t the answer.”

“What were the other things?”

“I was in a mob, it’s all in the file that you were given.”

POV TJ

“Ms. Barnes, what do you remember from the night of the 28th of August 2022?”

“I remember going to bed at around 10 pm and reading for a solid hour before turning off and going to bed after texting Millie and Sofia.”

“Why did you text these two people?”

“Because without me reminding them to go to bed they’d stay up 24/7. I’m just a teenage girl who cares about her friends. Contrary to popular belief I’m not a monster, I’m just a normal human being with a crazy family.”

“Normal?”

“Well as normal as one can expect having been brought up by mobsters.”

“Alright, what about the 1st of September?”

“That was the first day of school.”

“And?”

“And as I imagine you remember it was full of misogynistic comments, a rating list and bitchy teenagers and me nearly punching a sexist teacher who thought I couldn’t cope being in AP classes. Other than that and the usual bonding games it was a normal day.”

“I want you to describe it in detail,” The judge said.

“Can you pull in just here, I don’t want anyone to know about the fact I’m getting driven around in a limo,” I told Alfred the driver as Lizzie and Hayley talked business across from me.

“Of course ma’am.”

“Please don’t call me ma’am call me TJ please I will never get used to anyone calling me ma’am,” I told him as I kissed my aunts’ goodbye on the cheeks and got out of the car.

“Have you got your lunch?” Hayley asked.

“Yes, don’t worry I have everything.”

“She even has two best friends,” Millie said from behind me.

“Have a good day you three,” Lizzie said, “I have an appointment at the warehouse but I’ll come to pick you all up and we can get ice cream and walk around central park.”

“Yup,” Sofia squeaked as we headed to the school gates.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know,” I told her before she could ask.

“Yup. So what class do you guys have first?” Millie asked as we tried to find our lockers in the expansive hallways.

“AP English, with a Mr. Holland,” I said looking at my timetable on my phone trying to find the combination to my locker to drop most of my books off.

“Well, congrats we’ve all got the same class,” Millie said finding her combination.

“Wasn’t Holland one of the names on the list of people to avoid that we were all sent by Mr. T?” Sofia asked.

“Let’s see there’s a Tom, Sam, Harry, Dominic and that’s it. Well, all he could find under that name,” I said pinning some photos from London up inside my locker as well as the list of names I’d printed out this morning.

“You printed it out?” Sofia asked.

“Yup because it’s more useful like this than on my phone.”

“But more people can see it,” Millie responded.

“Only if they look in my locker, though,” I said as we walked toward what we hoped was the classroom we were meant to go to.

“This is 120 right?” Millie asked looking at the sign outside the door.

“I believe that does say 120 Millie. Are you sure you should be in AP calc?”

“Shut up,” She said playfully slapping my shoulder.

“Sorry,” two boys said after knocking into me and Millie trying to get into the classroom.

“I guess we should go in,” Sofia stated.

“Here we go,” Millie said.

“Together,” we said in unison walking through the door hand in hand.

“That was dramatic, wasn’t it?” Sofia said when we took a seat together at the front of the classroom.

“Not there,” a man said to us, “There’s a seating chart on the board.”

“Well, I’m in the right spot but you two have to move,” I said to my friends.

“Just remember, see something say something,” Millie said raising her eyebrows at us to emphasize the hidden meaning of the saying we’d been taught since we’d been kids.

“What does that mean?” One of the kids that had bumped into us said looking at where Millie was sitting.

“It means what you’d think it means, it’s just a stupid joke that we’ve told each other since we were kids. Love ya TJ,” Sofia said picking up her books and moving to her desk.

“Bye,” I said to them as they moved across the room pouting at me as I turned back to the boy, “Hi, I’m TJ. And you are?” I said looking him up and down as he sat down.

“Patrick,” he said shaking my hand. “I’m guessing your not from around here.”

“That obvious huh?” I said taking my pencil case out of my bag ready for class.

“The accent gave it away.”

“Thought so. You’ve also got a south-east London accent. How?” I asked with the determination I’d seen Lizzie use in meetings.

“My parents are from London, but I grew up here most of my life,” he told me turning back to the board.

“Hello everyone. Welcome to AP English, I’m Mr. Holland and I’ll be your teacher. To get us started after all the introductions and ‘bonding’ games that I’m sure you’ll do today, I’m going to set you a group project with your desk partner on a historically important book so pick a name out of the hat.”

When I picked a name out of the hat I was elated. “What book did you get?” the teacher asked.

“Little Women, Louisa May Alcott,” I said not even looking back at the little piece of paper.

“Good luck,” he said moving on.

At the end of the class, the three of us met up outside the classroom.

“So if I have ‘A Room Of One’s Own’ and you have ‘Little Women’ how on earth did Millie get ‘The Adventures Of Huckleberry Finn’? There is such a difference in those books,” Sofia said to us as we walked to our next class.

“I honestly don’t know. But I’m not mentally ready for that level of sexism and racism,” Millie responded.

“Is that all that happened that day at school?”

“No that’s all that mattered that day at school, it was a normal first day.”

“Alright.”

POV Chris

“Mr. Evans can you explain what happened at your meeting with Ms. Elizabeth Olsen.”

“Of course.”

“Elizabeth,” I said walking into the conference room at the hotel we’d agreed upon for this meeting.

“Christopher,” She said not even looking up from her paperwork.

“So, Robert tells me that you need to leave,” I said sitting down.

“Of course he thinks I need to leave but we’re not going to. We just need you to get him to sign these.” She handed me a folder that I flicked through.

“Why?” I asked her.

“It simply states that we’ll be in a similar relationship to that of any other mob in the city. The others have already signed theirs. It also states that you will be the liaison between us so that we don’t damage each other too much. All we want is to work together and help each other out,” she said smiling and waving her pen around.

“Well I’m sorry to say but we don’t do legal binding. And this is not how Robert roles.” I put down the file and slid it back to her.

“Well, Robert said you did. And agreed to this already so all you have to do is take this to him and get him to sign it. It’s a simple task I imagine you can handle it even with your IQ,” she told me.

“I can except he gave me this for you,” I said pulling out a note from my jacket pocket.

“Well thank you,” she said taking the note.

“I imagine things work differently in England than here,” I stated staring at her as she read the note.

“They do, we like to be more sophisticated in the ways we go into business with each other,” she said still reading the note.

“Get out,” she said quietly after she finished reading the note, “Get out or I will call security on you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Evans that’s all we need to know for now.”

POV Paddy

“Mr. Holland, can you tell us what happened on the first of September?”

“So your dad teamed you up with someone that he thinks is apart of a rival mob that moved here from England. And somehow he thought it would be a good idea for you two to work together. And now not so much?” Finn asked me as we sat down in the cafeteria.

“Yes, but he can’t change the partners without looking suspicious to at least her if she is, in fact, part of a mob.”

“So he’s worried about a teenage girl taking down Robert. Because that makes sense.”

“You haven’t seen what they did in London,” I told him starting to eat my lunch.

“Neither did you,” He told me.

“No, but my brothers and parents did and I’ve heard the stories. If she is a part of that mob she’s going down so is her family. They destroyed mine and so I’m going to help destroy theirs.”

“So you vowed to destroy the Barnes Mafia?”

“Yes but that was an empty threat. It meant nothing more than the ‘bro code’ everyone seems to think we uphold. It was meant as a way to show my dad that I was loyal to him but not mean anything to substantial because helping could just mean getting them cookies.”

“But I take it that’s not how your father saw it?”

“It never is.”

“Your dad said you wanted to help us take down the Barnes family?” the Chrises approached me when I got home from school.

“Maybe I did but I still have school and homework for the time being so if you’ll excuse me,” I told them grabbing an apple from the kitchen and disappearing to my room.

[ramblingkat]

The Undead

So, this is months late, but I don’t care. Have some more Monstrous May. This is for day 9: The Undead

Fandom: Bleach

The time was finally here.

He looked at Aizen, who was watching all of them. Not from the spot they all thought, but that was fine. Kisuke knew the man was probably so smug that he had tricked them.

Kisuke was better attuned to track the man any way. 

Though it appeared that Ichigo was also confused. He was glancing at Aizen, and then around as if trying to figure out what was going on.

The plan had been to wait, let Isshin and Yoruichi battle him and wear him down. 

But the pulse of revengerevengerevenge was beating too strongly in Kisuke’s chest. Just as it has been since he had woken up on the floor of his cell, covered in vomit and aware that something was Wrong. 

Not that it had been something he could focus on at the time. He had more important things to do, and his guards didn’t seem to notice anything off. They had only washed him off to take him to his trial. Which had gone poorly and he had more important things to deal with other than what was wrong with him. 

Over the years, he had done his research. It had to be careful, because if the others had figured out what he was researching, he would have worried them.

He was going to hurt them in the end. Better to let them have the good memories now. 

For years, Kisuke had managed to keep his secret, safe and quiet in his chest. It beat there along with the urge to murder, to take his revenge on the man who had taken everything from him. 

So now that he saw him, the urge to do just that was too strong to ignore. 

Kisuke blurted, pushing himself to the extreme. There was screams and yells as he landed, people torn between moving to help and  scattering as something large landed from the sky.

He looked down at the frightened eyes of Hinomori. Everything told him that it was the sad little lieutenant of the 5th looking up at him.

But in his core, the force that drove him, that wanted to finish that revenge, it knew who was pinned under him. That was not some simple sense, able to be tricked by someone else’s magic. This was a primal force of magic, something that warped the very laws of reality to enable the weapons it created. 

With a snarl, Kisuke leaned down and ripped Aizen’s throat out with his teeth.

A zanpakuto drove into his back, but Kisuke ignored it. That wasn’t important at this point. No, what was important was the blood in his mouth, Aizen’s blood. The way the other flailed, his illusions starting to fail as he bled. 

Rearing his head back, Kisuke spit the mouthful of flesh and blood to the side. Then he curled in, mouth dropping lower.

The taste of the Hogyoku on his tongue was a sizzle of power, vision whiting out for a moment as he knocked aside the hands that tried to push his head away. Then Kisuke

Bit.

Down.

The Hogyoku, along with the flesh that surrounded it, came away in his mouth. Instinct drove him, and Kisuke swallowed. It hurt as he did as if he was swallowing a lump of hot coal, drinking something of flame and pain. 

Under him, Aizen screamed as best he could through a mangled throat. The man’s skin was not knitting together, not smoothing back into perfect flesh. 

In Kisuke, the Hogyoku flared, and he screamed in pain as the two powers in his chest battled. 

The blade in his back vanished, and he hoped it was from the person wielding it pulling it free, not him destroying it by accident. That would have been rude. Even if they had stabbed him first. 

Under his hands, Aizen was dying. Kisuke lifted his head, still crouched over the man, looking down at him. 

“You shouldn’t have killed me,” he said with a snarling smile. “This, you brought down on yourself.”

Aizen’s eyes were full of confusion and fear. The man who would be god was confused and scared of death.

Good. 

Kisuke watched as the life in the man’s eyes flickered and faded. Eventually, it was gone completely. 

Still, he watched. Long enough to know for sure.

Then he sat up and screamed all his anger out.

He had avenged his own death. It tasted sweet.

Turning his head, he found himself looking into Rangiku’s eyes. 

“Tell them I am sorry,” he said. 

Then the force that had kept him moving for the last century spluttered out, and Kisuke fell.

***

Ichigo wasn’t sure what was going on. Not really. He had come out and struck Aizen, only to have him pretty much laugh as Zangetsu had bounced off his kido ward. Then a lot of stuff happened, and it wasn’t Aizen looking down at them anyone, it was Hinomori. 

Then Urahara popped up and everything went mad. 

He watched as the man appeared from nowhere and Ichigo could only barely track the flash step that he used to slam into where Aizen was on the ground. Then….

Ichigo had to glance away. That was…ew. He had not expected Urahara to use his teeth like that. It made his stomach squirm in a way that was distinctly uncomfortable. 

He glanced back as the blond screamed. Uncertain on what was going on, Ichigo glanced around at everyone. They all seemed to be confused. Especially Rangiku, who….

Had she stabbed Urahara?

That that it seemed to bother the man. He sat up, half sitting on Aizen’s legs, half crouched over the man. His face was covered with blood, hat nowhere to be found. The man looked wild, a smile that was all teeth clear even from where Ichigo was. Then Kisuke had said something to Rangiku and….slumped.

As if everything had suddenly turned off, Urahara went limp, eyes still half-open as he hit the ground.

Ichigo had never moved so fast in his life. 

He slid to a stop, just as Yoruichi joined him. And…his dad?

Who was in a Shinigami uniform? 

What?

Ichigo’s head was reeling as he was trying to take everything in. Urahara limp as Yoruichi and his dad starting working on them. A moment later, Shinji was there with Hiyori in his arms. 

“What the fuck,” said the older Visored, staring down at Urahara as if he had never seen the man before. Which Ichigo could understand. 

Urahara was always in control of things. Even when he was being a brat, teasing Ichigo while training him, Ichigo knew the man had a plan for things. There was always vibrant energy around him, something that crackled and raged. 

Ichigo had always thought it was Benihime, given the way Kisuke talked about her. 

Seeing him like this, so very still and…empty…..

Was Urahara dead?

Then Unohana was there, and she shoved all of them aside. “Clear the area,” she told them, voice harsh. “If he wakes up, none of you will be safe. Not at first.”

As much as he wanted to argue, Ichigo found himself being pushed back with the others. When Unohana decided something, nobody wanted to argue with him.

“What is going on?” he hissed at Shinji.

The other man frowned, focus obviously inwards. Then he frowned more. “Later, Ichigo. I got an idea, but if it’s the case, ya don’t want to be there if Kisuke wakes up.”

He nudged Ichigo, then flat out shoved him at Isshin. Who caught Ichigo and the world blurred around them. 

Okay, if he couldn't get answers about Urahara then he’d get them about Isshin, and what the hell was going on around here. 

***

Waking up was…unexpected. From everything he researched, once he had gotten his revenge, Kisuke was supposed to return to being dead once again. Not waking up in what appeared to be the Shoten.

“Well, you are calmer than I had imagined you would have been,” came a familiar voice, if not what he normally heard in his territory. He glanced to the side and saw that Unohana was sitting beside him, her Zanpakuto sheathed at her side.

Not that her weapon being there would have stopped her from putting him down if she needed to. Kisuke had seen her use Kido. 

“I hadn’t expected to wake up at all,” he admitted, carefully sitting up. Careful for two reasons. First, he didn’t know what to expect from his body. It ached, but less like he had hurt himself, more like he had just had a long spar.

Second reason to be careful was that he had no idea how Unohana would react to him moving. She was one of those from before the system was put together. Who knew what was roaming around before the Shinigami organized and became the force they were now. 

And revenants were frightfully close to Hollows. 

Unohana smiled slightly. “It has been known to happen. If one of your kind takes in a new power source before the one pushing for revenge fades, it can replace it.” She tilted her head. “I would stay silent about what it was you once were. Only a few of us recognized what you had become, but we also know you did us a great service in dealing with Aizen.”

She studied him, eyes cool and collected, a hint of violence in the depths. 

In a way, it was nice to get her respect enough that she’d allow him to see the latter. 

“We should spar at some point, Urahara-san. I believe it would be most entertaining.”

Okay, getting her respect was also a lot terrifying. 

“Please make the most of your second chance,” the woman added, standing gracefully. “If you wish, contact me at some point and I would be happy to help tell you about some of the talents you are likely to see as you age. Those such as you are very rare, and not much is written.”

Then she smiled, one that was actually tinged with humor instead of being terrifying. “Though I think it will be fun to watch as you have to explain to your friends about what it is that you are.”

Definitely a lot of terrifying having her focus. How did Kenpachi deal with it all the time?

***

Kisuke had debated how he should do this. First, he grabbed Tessai and Yoruichi. They deserved to know, more than anymore. 

Plus, with just the two of them, neither of the others would feel like they had to hide their reactions. Which meant he was crushed in hugs and wept on a bit. 

Yoruichi would blame Tessai for the tears, but both of them had been upset when they discovered the truth. 

The fact they had almost lost him for good had hurt both of his friends, and they had reacted poorly to that. 

Which meant this second talk had been delayed a bit. Kisuke could still feel his friends lurking around, which was expected. Knowing them, he was going to have them hover over him for a bit. 

That made him smile a little. It was always good to know they cared. 

Now Shinji and Ichigo sat in front of him. 

He had debated on it but finally decided that he should tell them. Shinji was his closest friend outside of Tessai and Yoruichi, and in charge of the Visored. 

And Ichigo just deserved to know the truth for once. Kisuke had already heard that Isshin had clammed up over telling the boy anything on his own past. 

They had to meet in his bedroom, however. Tessai had looked rather terrifying at the idea of Kisuke leaving his bed too soon. So that meant he was sitting on his futon, sipping his tea as the others settled.

“I take it ya are goin’ to tell us about what the fuck all that was,” Shinji said easily, holding his own cup. Beside him, Ichigo was scowling more than normal, eyes flicking over Kisuke repeatedly as if to make sure the other wasn’t hiding injuries.

It was so adorable. Ichigo had brought Kisuke into the circle of those people who he considered his to protect. 

Kisuke decided to be blunt for once.

“I’m dead,” he said calmly. “I’ve been dead, properly dead, for about a century.” He watched with a hint of amusement as Shinji choked on his tea.

“What?” Ichigo was staring at him, jaw dropped a bit as he tried to puzzle that out. “Aren’t you technically dead anyway?”

Kisuke shook his head. “I am a soul. As you know, that means I can be killed and returned to the cycle to be reborn later.”

Given Ichigo’s expression, he may not have known that. Kisuke added it to the list of things to start teaching Ichigo more about. If he was going to be dealing with Soul Society long-term, he needed a better idea of what it contained. 

“When I was jailed, before the farce of a trial, I believe Aizen arranged for me to be poisoned.” He watched the pair of them, Shinji’s color slowly draining. 

“He what?” the Visored hissed. Taking another sip of his tea, Kisuke answered. 

“He arranged for my death. The reason I know it was him was that I…woke up, and all I could think was revenge upon my murderer.”

Shinji made a noise of recognition. “Y’re a revenant,” he said, tone dark. He studied Kisuke, frowning a bit. “How are you still movin?”

“Wait, he’s a what?” Ichigo glanced from one blond to the other, agitation and confusion clear on his face as he fidgeted. The teen looked like he wanted to fight something, even if he wasn’t sure what he should be fighting. 

“A revenant,” Kisuke said slowly, “is an undead who rises to get revenge. They wake up from their death and begin to hunt. My ability to do so was limited, so I had a great deal more control over myself than some I have read about. They are…uncommon, and I have not been able to find out many details on them. Unohana-taicho has helped fill in some details for me.”

That got a snort from Shinji. “Yeah, she’d know about them.”

Ichigo went very quiet, very pale. 

“You died?” he asked in a tiny voice. Kisuke looked at him, the boy’s eyes were wide, and there was something there that hinted he might tear up in a moment.

It was rather like looking at Yoruichi when she found out.

He had not realized that the other had become so attached to him. 

“Twice,” Kisuke said softly. “Once when I died originally. Then a second once I completed my revenge. But my revenge is what also brought me back a second time.” He pressed a hand to his chest, where there was something new beating there. No longer was the whisper of revenge taking the place of a beating heart, warning his skin and keeping his mind sharp and limbs flexible. 

“Part of killing Aizen, of getting my revenge, was removing the Hogyoku from him. In doing so, I consumed it. So when the need for revenge was over, with that driving force gone, the Hogyoku took its place.”

He looked at the pair of them. “So, it seems that I am dead, yet alive. So you shall have to deal with me for a time to come.”

Shinji scoffed, but Kisuke could see the relief in his friend’s eyes. 

Ichigo looked even more relieved, uncertain.

Kisuke did what he would have done for Jinta or Ururu, and held his arms open, a silent offer.

One Ichigo took, slamming into Kisuke’s chest and hugging him tightly. Shinji moved as well, shifting so he was leaning against Kisuke’s shoulder, patting Ichigo’s back to help soothe him.

Poor boy. He must have been so stressed out for so long. Kisuke would have to take some of that from his shoulders.

They would talk more later. Right now, he just hugged Ichigo back, grateful for the chance to continue his undead life.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Non-Sequential [Ch. 3]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 4,267

A/N: Inspired by the film The Time Traveler’s Wife. But not one of those fics that just literally rips off the whole movie and plugs in characters where they please.

Chapter 2

Brooklyn, NY - 1934

It had been 6 months since Y/N had spent the night in Steve’s bedroom. Steve was starting to lose his mind, wondering why Y/N could never stay. Why did no one know who she was? Was she OK? Was she in trouble? Was she homeless? Was she even human?

Steve was only mildly convinced he hadn’t gone crazy by the fact that her appearance had saved him from getting beaten to a pulp by those bullies. If she’d scared them away, she had to be real…right?

Steve was sitting in a park, sketching her. A part of him was scared that if he didn’t, he’d start forgetting what she looked like. 

Who knew if she’d ever come back? What if that innocent night where they slept in the same room was all they got?

“What’s this?” A voice said from behind him.

Steve panicked when he recognized the voice.

It was Charlie; a boy he went to school with. He made a habit out of teasing the living daylights out of Steve. However, he was never bold enough to do it in front of Bucky.

Steve tried to slam his sketchbook shut before Charlie could see anything.

But Charlie was already ripping it out of Steve’s hands.

“Charlie, don’t!” Steve tried to jerk it back.

But he was stronger than him.

Charlie shoved Steve away from him so hard that he felt to his bum and looked up at him helplessly. Charlie started flipping through the pages. He appeared bored until he reached the sketches of Y/N. There was a little less than a dozen. But all of them were so detailed that they were practically photographs.

Charlie started laughing, mocking Steve. “You peeping in girl’s windows now, Rogers?”

Steve got to his feet and shoved forward. “Give it back, Charlie!”

“You know what? This broad is a real looker. I think I’ll keep it. Look at it when I’m real lonely…if you know what I mean.”

Steve seethed at his gross implication. He tackled Charlie, but it hardly moved the boy.

Charlie shoved him to the ground again and took a step, readying his fist to beat Steve until he learned a lesson.

But suddenly, Charlie was being pulled back by the collar of his jacket.

“The hell you think you’re doing?” Bucky growled as he held on to the boy.

“W-W-We were just m-messing around, Barnes,” Charlie stuttered in fear.

Bucky wasn’t smaller than Charlie.

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky chided as his eyes looked down to see Steve’s sketchbook in Charlie’s grasp. “You think you can just take things from people because they’re smaller than you?” He ripped it from Charlie’s grasp.

Charlie didn’t answer, just gulped.

Bucky brought his face closer. “I asked you a question,” he growled. Charlie shook his head quickly in fear. 

Bucky shoved him so hard, he fell to the ground. “Pick on someone your own size.”

Charlie stumbled back to his feet and sprinted away.

Bucky watched him go and then finally turned to his best friend. He helped Steve off the ground and brushed the dirt from his clothes. Then he carefully handed Steve his sketchbook. He knew how important it was to him.

“Thanks, Buck.” Steve muttered as his eyes stared downward.

“You OK?”

Steve just nodded, but his head still hung.

“He won’t bother you no more,” Bucky pronounced a little too confidently.

Steve finally looked at his friend. “Yeah, he will. He’s scared of you, not me. Soon as I’m alone, he’ll mess with me again.”

Bucky frowned and his shoulders sagged. He knew Steve was right. Yeah, Bucky was Steve’s protector. But he couldn’t be with his friend 24/7.

Steve slowly opened up his sketchbook. The drawing he had just been working on had ripped 3/4 of the way down. It must’ve happened when Charlie first ripped the book out of his hands.

Bucky watched him sadly. “That her?”

Steve ignored the question as his finger traced down the ripped paper. “What’re doin’ here, Buck?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

“Was just lookin’ for you, punk.”

Steve looked around and sighed. “I think I’m just going to head home.”

But Bucky was already shaking his head. “Absolutely not. We’re getting somethin’ to eat.”

Steve wanted to try and argue further. But he knew there was no point. Bucky wouldn’t let him mope around. So Steve let him drag him in any direction he wished. It didn’t matter.

————

Bucky was talking about the baseball game from earlier in the day, giving Steve a play-by-play with such enthusiasm. Steve got excited at the right points and laughed at the others. Seeing Bucky’s face light up talking about it was enough to bring his friend joy too.

The diner was roaring with other conversations and laughter. It was their usual place, meaning that most of the people there were from the neighborhood and the diner’s usual customers.

Steve’s back was to the toward. But he wanted to turn around when he heard the bell ring. The conversations died down a bit. The laughter stopped. Steve felt the hairs on the back of his neck move on end.

Whoever had just walked in had grabbed the attention of the majority of the diner.

Then Steve looked up at Bucky to see that he had stopped mid-sentence to also gawk. His eyes were attentive and his mouth just slightly wide with awe.

Somehow, Steve just knew. He just knew it was her.

He kept facing forward, fighting every urge of his body to turn around and look at her. Goosebumps went all across his skin as he heard the sound of her heels tapping the tile of the diner. They were getting closer and closer. Steve watched Bucky’s eyes trailing her.

Then she was standing right next to him.

“Mind if I join you boys?” She asked.

Steve finally found the courage to turn and look up at her.

For once, Y/N was wearing her clothes that fit her. A black top and grey skirt, cinched to perfection by a fancy belt. She was even wearing sheer gloves and a hat neatly pinned into her flawless curls.

She seemed to be wearing makeup for the first time. Her eyes popped from their new outline. Her lips were a dark red that was almost too sensual to be worn in the daytime. She was a vision. And it was no wonder the entire diner had stopped to gaze at her.

Steve, so hypnotized by her, missed the question.

“Y/N,” he whispered in revelation.

That seemed to snap Bucky out of his daze. He blinked and looked at Steve, making sure he heard him right. “Y/N?” He gaped.

But Steve ignored his questioning.

The way she was looking at him and the way Steve was looking at her, it was like the rest of the world had disappeared for them.

Bucky cleared his throat, finally grabbing both of their attention. “Steve, I believe the lady asked you a question…”

Steve blinked. “Right. Of course.” He jumped out of the booth.

Bucky did too. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, miss. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

Steve’s stomach tightened at watching his best friend’s charm get released. He couldn’t be mad at him. Bucky would find a way to charm a woman on his deathbed. It couldn’t be stopped. But this was the moment Steve had dreaded.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed playfully and she was clearly trying to hide a smirk. But she shook Bucky’s hand politely. “The infamous Bucky Barnes. It’s so nice to finally put a face to the name,” Y/N said just as charmingly.

But then she turned her attention to Steve, who was patiently waiting for her to take a seat. Her face softened and whatever charm had been in her expression had been replaced by pure sincerity.

“Hello, Steve,” she hummed softly. But the simple greeting said so much more.

“Hi, Y/N,” Steve managed to reply.

Then they booth slid into the booth.

Y/N seemed to finally sense all the eyes on her. The conversations had continued throughout the diner. But most of the men kept stealing glances at her every chance they got.

Y/N cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Uh…Is it just me or is everyone staring at us?”

Steve looked around finally and gave the deadliest glare to every man that ogled her. “They’re not staring at us, doll. They’re staring at you,” Bucky told her with a grin.

Y/N put some hair behind her ear self-consciously.

Steve caught it immediately and scooted just a bit closer to her in the booth. The gesture seemed to relax her a bit.

“So…Y/N, where have you been hiding?” Bucky asked.

Steve gave him a warning glower.

But Y/N seemed unfazed. “I’ve been out of town.”

Steve cleared his throat and started changing the subject.

But then Y/N took over the conversation, started asking Bucky and Steve questions. It was like she was a part of their longtime friendship. She fit in flawlessly. Whatever weirdness lingered from Y/N’s mysterious comings and goings was completely absent.

Steve didn’t know how she did it. He couldn’t fathom how she felt like an old friend when they’d only spent mere hours together collectively.

Some time had passed when Steve caught a glance at the clock.

“Jeez, I lost track of time. I promised ma I’d be home for dinner soon,” Steve muttered quickly.

Then he looked at Y/N. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. Then he remembered how she insisted he introduce her to his mother next time they saw each other.

“Would… Would you like to come to dinner?” Steve asked her nervously.

A shy smile formed on her painted lips. “I’d love to.”

“Well, then let’s go!” Bucky clapped his hands together.

Steve narrowed his eyes and pointed at his friend. “You’re not comin’.”

Bucky looked offended.

“I’m sick of you eating all my food,” Steve warned.

This was a new feeling for Bucky. He didn’t know what it was like for a woman to be numb and unresponsive to his charm and advances. But it warmed his heart to see Steve look so enamored and captivated.

They started walking out of the diner. Steve moved unnecessarily closer to Y/N as he caught men leering at her.

Once they were outside, Bucky pat Steve’s back as his farewell. 

Then he turned to Y/N. “It was very nice to finally meet the doll that Steve won’t shut up about.”

Steve blushed.

To both men’s surprise, Y/N enveloped Bucky into a tight and loving hug. It caught Bucky off-guard, causing a delayed reciprocation.

Steve felt like he was missing something.

Y/N held Bucky tight and when she pulled away, she still gripped his shoulders firmly. “I’m glad we finally got to meet, Bucky.” But her voice was a little sad as she said it.

Bucky seemed to sense it too and just gave a shy nod, “I’m glad we did too, doll.”

They said their farewells and Steve started leading Y/N to his apartment.

He can’t help but try and steal as many side glances of her as possible.

“You look…different this time,” he told her quietly.

“You mean I don’t look like I’ve stolen someone’s clothes this time,” she laughed lightly.

Steve chuckled and shook his head, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I thought I’d make a bit more of an effort,” Y/N shrugged.

“How long you in town for?” Steve asked the dreaded question.

She sighed and gave him an apologetic smile. “I don’t know. I never really know.”

Steve tried to act like he understood. “Need a place to stay again?”

Her face softened at the obvious offer. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“Sure you want to stay for dinner? I don’t know why you were so adamant about meeting my ma.”

“Well, she raised you. I’d like to meet the woman that made the infamous Steve Rogers the man he is today.”

He scoffed at that. “I don’t know about ‘infamous.’ Don’t know about ‘man’ either.” He looked down at his small body.

“Size doesn’t make a boy become a man, Steve.”  

“Then what does?” He challenged.

She stopped walking so she could face him. Her face had never looked more serious since he’d met her. “Many things. You’ve already figured it out…you just don’t know it yet. But I promise none of them have to do with physicality.”

Steve’s face scrunched in confusion. “Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Then they were at his apartment building. 

When Steve glanced at Y/N, he saw that she looked nervous. 

Was it because she was about to meet his mother? No, that couldn’t be it.

Steve unlocked the door and was immediately met with the sounds of his mother cooking in the kitchen.

“Ma, I’m home. I brought someone back for dinner.”

“You tell that Bucky Barnes he better take his shoes of before he walks into this apartment,” a voice called with a muted Irish accent.

Despite the command not being aimed at her, Y/N took off her high heels.

Steve gave her an apologetic look, but led her toward the kitchen.

“It’s not Bucky, ma.”

His mom whipped away from the stove to look. She seemed utterly shocked to find a young woman standing next to him.

“Oh, h-hello…” Sarah Rogers stuttered. “Ma, this is Y/N,” Steve told her with a beaming smile.

Y/N rushed forward to properly introduce herself. Sarah went for the handshake and was surprised that Y/N immediately went for the hug. Sarah gave her son a questioning look over Y/N’s shoulder. But Steve just shrugged.

When Y/N pulled away, Sarah immediately became worried when she saw tears in Y/N’s eyes.

“Oh, dear. What’s the matter?” She immediately went into mom mode.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed the tears away embarrassingly. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “I’m just being silly.”

Sarah patted her cheek softly and wiped any remaining tears. “Why don’t you take a seat, love? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Y/N nodded and Steve rushed forward to pull out a chair for her. He gave her a look, asking her silently if she was OK. Y/N nodded and looked embarrassed.

But Steve still reached for her hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“So,” Sarah began as the food was finally on all their plates, “how did you meet this beautiful young lady, Steve?”

Y/N's cheeks turned pink at the subtle compliment.

“We just kind of…” Steve started.

“Met,” Y/N finished.

Sarah eyed the two of them, knowing there was more to it than that.

But once again, Y/N became her charming self. She overwhelmed Sarah with questions. She asked her about working as a nurse in the tuberculosis ward, what Steve was like as a kid, how Ireland was different than New York City.

Sarah barely got a chance to ask Y/N a single thing.  

However, Steve noticed that Y/N never asked about his father. It was almost strategic. 

“Ma, why don’t you two have some tea in the living room and I’ll clean up?” Steve suggested when they had been long done with dinner.

“Oh, I can help!” Y/N jumped to her feet.

“No, no, no. You’re our guest,” Steve shooed her away.

Sarah smiled at her son and pulled Y/N to their living room.

Steve could still manage to hear the murmur of their talking as he did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. But he couldn’t really make out what they were saying.

Y/N was glad to have this moment alone with Sarah.

She looked in the direction of where Steve was in the kitchen.

“You raised an amazing young man, Sarah.”

She smiled softly. “I’m not quite sure it was all my doing. Every so often, I look at him and wonder how I got so lucky to have such an angel of a son.” She sighed, “Sometimes I worry that other people won’t see him.” Then Sarah eyed Y/N knowingly. “Well…I worried about that until tonight.”

“Believe it or not. He saw me first,” a darkness clouded Y/N’s eyes as she said it.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Sarah asked.

Y/N looked pained from the question. “It’s…complicated. Everything about us is complicated. And it’ll get worse before it get’s better.”

Sarah nodded, as if she understood Y/N’s puzzle of words. She reached over and gripped Y/N’s hand tightly. “But you’ll look after him, won’t you, love? He has Bucky. But I have a feeling he won’t always have that boy to protect him.”

Y/N nodded fervently. “Steve means…” she struggled with how much she should say, so she stopped herself and nodded again. “I’ll always look after him, Sarah. I promise.”

“Hey, ma?” Steve leaned against the doorway, giving his mother a look that reminded Y/N of a puppy.

“Yes, Stevie?”

“Can…Can Y/N stay the night? I’ll sleep out here on the couch. She can take my bed. She’s got no place to stay.”

Sarah smiled, “Of course.” She stood up. “I think I’ll go off to bed myself.” Then she gave Steve a playful look of warning. “No funny business, Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied seriously.

Y/N and Steve sat on the couch. 

He had lent her some of his pajamas. And he tried to ignore the feelings it brought, seeing her in his clothes. Her makeup was off now and her hair was down. Steve wondered if this is how husbands looked at their wives while they were in the sanctity of their own homes.

They had been talking for hours now. Steve didn’t have school or work the next day, and he would stay up all night talking with Y/N if he could.

Then Y/N’s eyes stared into the distance. Steve could always tell when she was getting lost in her head.

“Y/N? What is it?” He asked her gently.

“I have to tell you something. But…But I know that you’re not going to believe me – that you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“You don’t know that,” Steve tried to argue.

“There are some things I can’t tell you, Steve. But I would never ever lie to you. It’s important to me that you know that.”

Steve nodded. “Please, just tell me. I could never think you’re crazy.”

Y/N took in a deep breath. “The reason I can never stay, that I come and go, that nobody knows who I am…” her eyes tore into Steve’s for a moment, “is because I’m not from here.”

“Y/N…I already knew that.”

“No, not Brooklyn or even New York City. I’m not from this time.”

Steve observed her, tried to figure out if she was yanking his chain. What a strange joke to pull. But Y/N’s face was absolutely serious.

“I’m from the future. I have this…thing…this-this problem. I time travel. But I can’t control it. It just happens. I don’t know where I’m going and I don’t know where I am, until I find a newspaper or a person or…anything.”

Steve was quiet.

“Do…Do you believe me, Steve?” Y/N whispered.

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

“You do?” She asked in shock.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Then she was hugging him. “I’m sorry for not telling you the night you met me. I thought it would scare you. It scares a lot of people. Or they just think I’m crazy,” she muttered into his shoulder.

“It’s OK. You don’t have to apologize,” Steve assured her.

Then they pulled away. “But…Where are are you from? Or I guess I should say when…”

She smirked. “I was born in 1992.”

His eyes widened at the date. But then…he felt his heart slowly break.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t spend his time dreaming about the day when he could actually be with Y/N. They might not know each other as much as he wanted. But he just had this feeling like one day they would know everything about one another.

Now that dream shattered before it even got a chance.

“1992,” he mumbled.

Y/N seemed to read his disappointment. “Come on…aren’t you going to ask me what the future’s like? Don’t you want to know if there are flying cars?”

He tried to force a smile, but failed miserably. Then he stared off, looking at nothing in particular.

“This isn’t the last time you’ll see me, Steve.” Y/N tried to tell him.

They were now walking a fine line. 

Y/N promised she’d never lie to him. She refused to break that promise. But she also couldn’t tell him they’d meet again in her own time. It could drive him insane knowing something crazy was going to happen to him in order for that to become their reality.

“It’s just…I thought,” Steve began. But then he shook his head, changing his mind. “Never mind. I was being stupid.”

Y/N wanted him to say it. But she’d let him hide his thoughts this time.

Steve stood then. “I should…uh…let you get to sleep.”

“Oh, OK.” She tried not to sound disappointed.

She walked to his bedroom and turned around in the doorway. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He stopped making up his bed on the couch to look at her. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Steve struggled to fall asleep, knowing Y/N was just in the other room. He knew the next night, his bed would smell of her. His heart beat faster at the thought. Eventually, exhaustion finally forced him to go to sleep.

The next morning, he was awoken by a slight shake and a whisper of Y/N repeatedly calling his name.

Steve winced and blinked his eyes open. “You’re still here,” he mumbled.

She smiled at the sound of his voice in the morning. “I won’t be for long. I can feel it coming. I just wanted to thank you. But also – figured you should watch me go this time…just incase you weren’t sure you believed me.”

Steve sat up a little, “What do you mean?”

But his question was answered as he saw Y/N slowly disappearing. It was like her skin was turning into clouds until she went transparent. But she wasn’t just transparent: she was gone. His clothes dropped to the floor now that there was nothing for them to hold on to.

Steve’s eyes widened and he shot up even further, blinking as if trying to figure out if he had just been dreaming. He looked around the room wildly, expecting to find Y/N giggle in the corner as if it had all been a prank.

But his piles of clothes remained on the floor and Y/N was gone.

—————

Avengers Compound - 2015

“So you guys never…you know?” Sam asked as he held the punching bag for Steve.

The super-soldier glared at his friend for the intrusive question.

“For the last time, Sam, we were just friends.”

“That girl travels around time, tethered to events in your life and you’re still trying to tell me you’re just friends?”

Steve took a step back from the punching bag and evened his breathing.

“Back then, she never told me I’d be a part of the future. She had to be careful what she told me about my life. And me getting frozen and waking up in another century was definitely one of the things she kept to herself.” He took a breath and shook his head. “I never – I didn’t think we’d ever have a chance, OK?”

“So that’s why Peggy was your first love and not her?” Sam asked carefully.

Steve shook his head. “It’s not that simple, Sam.”

“But do you love her?” Sam had a habit of trying to subtly be Steve’s therapist. He didn’t always mean to do it. But Sam knew Steve’s inability to talk things out was no a healthy habit. He always wanted Steve to know that he could talk to him.

“When we first met, I was just a kid. I had a crush on her. Then I kept getting older and older, and she kept visiting…and it turned into something else.” His brow furrowed at the memories. “But then I met Peg and I became a walking experiment and I got sent off to war. I just felt lucky to have Y/N. The fact that we could never be together – I wouldn’t let myself think about how I really felt toward her.”

“But now you know you can,” Sam offered gently.

“Hey, Rogers!” Natasha called from the entrance to the training facility. “I found something that belongs to you.”

Both men turned around to see Nat standing next to Y/N, who was wrapped in a blanket. Her hair was a mess and the blanket was a little short, exposing her legs and bare feet.

Steve’s heart almost leapt out of his chest at the sight of her.

He was oblivious to agents stopping their training and workouts to observe the weird guest before them.

Steve quickly made his way to her.

He eyed Natasha. “What? You couldn’t get her some clothes?”

She glared at him. “I tried. But she wanted to come see you first.” Then she disappeared, leaving the two alone.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted him shyly.

“Hi,” Steve replied.

-------------------------------------

Chapter 4

Yayyyy! THINGS ARE HAPPENING. Let me know your thoughts. It makes me happy and fuels my writing. ❤️

Once again, I do not to taglists. Here is the series’ masterlist: Non-Sequential

[violet-knox]

Unwanted Encouter

Year 6 - Chapter 28

Summary: James and Sirius come to talk to you before Dumbledore announces the special events that are to take place this year. 

Word count: 1968

Previous Chapter - Chapter 1

~

The second you stepped foot in the Great Hall, the sea of yellow, red, green and blue split, filing into their respective corners, reluctantly including you and Severus. It broke your heart to separate from him this way, all because of a choice a bewitched hat made when you were eleven years old. It was absurd really. What kind of character would one have developed by that age? Giving each other one last glace, you shot him a shaky smirk before heading to find a seat at your table. You always sat alone during meal times, never really clicked with any of your Gryffindor peers and though Severus would usually accompany his own Slytherin friends, you noticed this time, he’d opted to mirror your direction and sit right across from you. Taking a seat, you caught his eye and quickly gave him a smile as he settled into his own seat. You weren’t sitting together, but it was the best you could do under the circumstances. Reaching into your robe, you went to take out the book you had stashed away, when you heard some familiar voices calling out for you.

“Oi, (Y/N)! So, you’re team captain now?” You turned to see your team’s seeker, James, staring at you, arms crossed, and jaw clenched. Jealousy was a colour that did not look good on him. Though you imagined he wasn’t used to being denied what he wanted and thus didn’t know how to accept such news. It would definitely explain his completely inappropriate obsession with Lily and the lengths he’d go to, trying to pursue her. He just couldn’t take no for an answer.  

You sighed heavily as you turned to faced him. “James,” you spoke lazily, “Charming as ever I see,” you just couldn’t be bothered to reply with the warm tone you’d usually give. What was the point when you knew whatever you said, all you’d receive in return was hatred and an immense amount of coarseness.

“Not as charming as me I hope,” your head spun back around to your left to see that Sirius had found a seat next to you. Great. What a lovely way to start your sixth year. Your leg began bouncing in annoyance as you debated on how to avoid the rest of this conversation. Looking up, you noticed that Severus had been glaring at you and your companions; his focus on James was so combative, it could burrow a hole right through him. Why were they talking to you?

“Please just leave me alone,” you asked the two boys hovering around you. It was worth a try.

James ignored your request and instead proceeded with the conversation he started. “So, I assume this means I’m off the team? Are you going to ask Snivellus to be the new Gryffindor seeker?” Oh jealous really didn’t look good on him. “You know maybe you should ask Dumbledore to join the sorting ceremony this year so you can go play for the house you’re truly loyal to.”

You heard Sirius chuckle, “What do you even see in him anyways? I mean he’s a Slytherin! A greasy freak who-”

“Enough!” you exclaimed, jumping to your feet. “Who I spend my time with is none of your business. And as for you,” you said, turning to look at James, “I, unlike you, have more important things to worry about other than petty grudges. You’re a good seeker James and I very much doubt I’ll be able to find a better one. So, you will most likely stay on the team if you show up when I hold trials.” Your face burned red with rage. You could understand James’ concern with being kicked off the team as you weren’t exactly on the best of terms with him, but what he was doing, attacking you and your friendship with Severus like this, was really quiet a pathetic display of his inability to take a loss. You stood up to face James granting a reaction from Sirius as he made his way to his feet as well, taking his place alongside his best friend. You lowered your voice as you took a step towards him, “Question my loyalty for Gryffindor again and you will lose more than just your position on the Quidditch team.”

You turned to look at them both before giving them one last demand. “Leave Severus and I alone and we will do the same. There is no need to finish our last two years at Hogwarts on sour notes. I suggest you both go find your seats,” you nudged your head towards the other side of the table where you saw Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew staring at the three of you.

You took your seat before the boys left you to join their friends, your patience at an end. You felt nauseous. All you wanted to do was run out of the hall and talk to Severus, to hug him and let him know you didn’t care what those gits thought. But alas, dinner had yet to even begin and you weren’t about to make a scene now. Instead, you settled for some light reading as you finally took out your book and opened it to where it was marked. Before you began to read, you looked up towards Severus who had yet to break his glare on you. The look in his eye had changed yes, resonating an emotion resembling anxiousness than anger, but you could tell he was still on edge.

He felt the biggest urge to stand up and demand what happened, to know what exactly Potter said to you, but he never got the chance to even think of how to make his way over to enemy territory as Dumbledore stood up, bringing order to the room. He gave his usual beginning of term speech, but then began to explain the special events that were to occur at Hogwarts this year, bringing everyone’s full attention, including yours, to him.

“We are lucky enough this year, to hold the Triwizard Tournament right here at Hogwarts,” said Dumbledore. “As a consequence of this special event however, Quidditch this season, is cancelled-”

“What?!” you whispered a little louder than you should have. But as you looked around, it was clear you weren’t the only one in shock as most of the Quidditch players were also startled by the news. You finally make captain, and this happens. Quidditch had become such an important part of your life, you just couldn’t imagine going the year without it. When else would you get the chance to zoom around on your broom, leaving your worries behind? It was the only thing that kept you grounded at times, an escape your books could never give you.

Devastation seeped in as the sorting ceremony began, flying right past you; the voice of professor McGonagall blurred in the background as your thoughts ran wild. Couldn’t they have simply held this ridiculous even alongside Quidditch? Was there still time to convince the Headmaster to reinstate Quidditch this year? You completely lost yourself in your thoughts, completely unaware the first years had all take their seats as food suddenly appeared on the table before you. You’d in fact become so distracted, you completely forgot about the conversation you had just had with Sirius and James.

Severus saw how upset you were and did understood why. You’d always been so passionate about Quidditch and you’d worked so so hard last year to earn the spot of Team Captain, but he couldn’t lie, he felt a bit of elation settling in his chest as this meant he could potentially spend more time with you this year, not to mention the fact it would cut down on the time you spent around Potter. A bonus he’d be sure to take advantage of later.

It took you a moment to snap back to reality as those around you began reaching for food, each with the clear intension of testing the capabilities of their plates, but there was no point on dwelling now. You might as well eat and try and get your mind off of your dilemma for now. Your appetite was sparse, but as you read your book, your mind finally ventured off from the subject of Quidditch and into something a little less destressing. Occasionally, you found yourself looking up towards Severus only to see that the sour expression on his face had not changed since James and Sirius came to talk to you. What was he so worried about now? He didn’t think you’d swap your chance at winning the Quidditch cup for the Triwizard Cup, did he? Because you surely had no interest in such a competition, though… perhaps he did?

Though he definitely had the skill and talent for it, you never really imagined Severus in such a spotlight. He never seemed one for attention, though if he had his eye on that prize money, it would explain why he carried that unsettled look on his face. If you were correct in assuming his interest in the thousand Galleon reward, surely he understood his chances of winning, let alone becoming Hogwarts’ Champion was less than slim. But that couldn’t be it could it? Two years you’ve known him and not once did either of you make any sort of comment to lead to such an assumption. There had to be something else you were missing.   

As dinner came to an end, everyone started heading to their dorms, the entrance to the Great Hall crowded as red, yellow, green and blue mixed together once more. Just as you were about to turn left and head to Gryffindor Tower, hoping to dream away the sharp pain in your gut, you felt a hand grip your arm. Turning around, you were met by none other than Severus who still wore that stern look on his face.

“What was that all about?” he asked you. Looking at him puzzled, you tried shuffling through your thoughts, seeking for whatever it was Severus referred to. Your silence testing his patience, but he stayed collecting, giving you a hint as to the answer he was looking for. “Potter,” he stated simply.

You’d been so focused on Dumbledore’s announcement, the earlier conversation you’d had with James and Sirius had almost completely faded away, as if it never happened. But the memory of the dreadful encounter cam flooding back the instant Severus said James’ name with such resentment.

“It was nothing, really. I dealt with it.” You turned to leave but his grip just tightened on you. Looking down at your arm, your brows shot in surprised. James and Sirius had been less than kind to him over the years, so you understood his reluctancy and knew how it must have looked to him, staring at the three of you from a distance, unable to hear the repugnant words exchanged, but you’d never imagined it warranting such a reaction from him.

“Severus, you don’t have to worry, I handled it,” you pulled your arm away from him but could now see it wasn’t anguish he felt. He wasn’t upset over the missed opportunity of winning a thousand Galleons, nor was he anxious about your earlier encounter with James. He was worried over you.

“Just…Just tell me what happened.”

Looking into his eyes, you sighed. “Fine, we have an hour before Herbology tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the astronomy tower after breakfast. I’ll tell you then.” You placed your hand on over his shoulder in comfort, hoping he’d let you go. His eyes flickered as they peered into yours, clearly agitated for the lack of answers he’d received. But nevertheless, he still nodded his head in agreement as you gave him a quick smile before heading your separate ways.

~

Next Chapter

~

@hoppingsnape @dusk-realm @a-slytherin-sin @trashandshook @gbatesx @sneezy-s @emsdroid @leah-halliwell92 @dellightfullydeceitful @xxaamzxx

[milos-fanfics]

The Evils Within - Chapter 14

“Where do you think he could be?” Peach asked. Both she and Mario sat on either side of the bed, Luigi sitting up in the middle of it.

“Well, I did have this dream where I saw him on his way to Sarasaland. Maybe he's there," Luigi responded.

"Sarasaland? Daisy's place? Why would he go there? I thought he hated us, not her," Mario thought aloud.

Luigi shrugged, "I don't know. Power maybe? Sarasaland is made up of four kingdoms after all. But whatever he's doing there, I know it's not good."

~~~~~

Mario climbed out of the warp pipe, carefully stepping to the ground. Luigi followed right after, tripping over the rim of the pipe and to the ground with a quiet, but audible, “Owie.” Hearing his quiet exclamation, Mario turned to face him, rushing to help him off the ground.

The two wound up in Sarasaland’s warp room. It was vaguely similar to the Mushroom Kingdoms' except for the four green-colored pipes labeled to the adjacent kingdoms.

"Alright, you know this place better than I, so you can search the castle and I'll check the kingdom’s center for any hints to where he could be, okay?” Mario said as he and Luigi began to walk through the castle’s corridor.

“Just be safe, okay?” Luigi asked in a worried tone. Mario nodded before he reached the castle entrance, being careful as to not draw attention to himself.

~~~~~

Luigi began throughout the many rooms. For the most part, it was empty. There was the occasional toad from here and there, but most didn't notice Luigi was there. The ones that did, however, their reactions were… unwelcoming to say the least.

They all feared him. They either ran or hid from. They didn't want anything to do with him. He found it weird but he understood how they were feeling but he didn't like it

The first floor of the castle was Mr. L free. Luigi made it to the staircase that connected the first and second floors. He carefully made his way up the stairs. He was only ever let up the stairs once or twice, but he still knew his way around, even if the hall was just a straight line. He poked his head in and out of each room, looking back and forth throughout each one. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, that wasn't until he reached the last door in the hall.

Luigi lightly pushed open the door with a flower in the middle of it. It was Daisy's room. Luigi looked back and forth throughout the room. It was fairly normal. He backed out of the room before realizing something caught his attention. He looked back in the room and there lied Daisy. Asleep. At least, that's what it looked like at first glance.

She lied on her bed, hands to her side, Lightly breathing. The way she lay, facing to the ceiling, rather than her side, implied that someone placed her there. A large gash visible on her forehead and her nose was slightly bloodied. Someone had hurt her. 

Luigi ran over to the side of the bed. He had to help her. He reached into his overall pocket and pulled out a super mushroom. It was his last one. He gently placed it in her mouth and started to back out of the room. He didn't want her to be confused if she happened to wake up. 

He was only a few steps from the door when he heard a rustle, followed by a groan of discomfort. Luigi quickened his pace and had only placed a foot in the doorway when he heard her voice. 

“Luigi?” Daisy asked in her dazed state.

Luigi stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face her, a nervous look on his face. Daisy has sat up. He marveled at the fact her injuries were already healed. “What are you doing here?”

“I-” He stopped. He couldn’t tell her about Mr. L. “You looked like you needed help…”

“Help? You’re here to help? After what you did to me?” Daisy’s tone was rather harsh.

Luigi was simultaneously confused and afraid. “...After what I did?” He quietly asked himself.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You know what you did!” She leaned forward and pointed a finger to him. “Please just- just go…” she leaned back into her pillows. Her tone shifted from slightly angered to a tad hurt. “I don’t know what you did out there,  but I don’t want any more of it…”

Luigi's eyes widened. It was just like the dream he had the previous week. He knew he couldn't defend himself, no matter how hard he tried. He continued out of the room and down the steps, blinking back the tears that started to form in his eyes.

Mr. L was nowhere to be found. That was both a good and a bad thing. It was good because he wasn't terrorizing anyone in the castle, but it was bad because he was probably off terrorizing someone or someplace else.

~~~~~

Mario walked throughout the center town of Sarasasland. He was shocked at the sight of it all. Bowser's minions like parakoopas and goombas roamed the streets, toads hiding in alleys, making secretive trades of trivial things like food and water, others hiding out in the central town's ruins.

He did his best to lay low and not draw too much attention to himself. That was short-lived, however, as a toad bystander gasped at the sound of him. A couple of others turned in the direction of the sound. They ran towards him, surrounding him. They look like they've been through a lot. Cuts, bruises, ragged clothing. What happened here? 

They begin talking over one another. Concerns and relieved comments. Mario couldn't understand. “Please- please. One at a time,” He cut them off from their overlapping comments. 

One toad, in blue color, spoke up first. “Oh man, are we glad to see you,” he said in a relieved tone.

Another toad, this one green with small brown pigtails sticking from under her hat butted in. “That brother of yours. Something is really wrong with him,” she voiced her concern.

“Yeah, look what he's done to this place!” An angry yellow toad gestured to the chaos that surrounded them.

Mario shook his head at the thought of Luigi, his younger and much more innocent brother, doing such a thing. “You're saying… Luigi did this?” he asked. The group collectively nodded, muttering variations of ‘yes’.

“We would have asked for your help sooner, but he won't let us out of this place,”  a quiet purple toad spoke up.

Mario was about to ask more questions when a blue cloud of smoke appeared before them. Mario was pushed out of the way behind a pile of rubble by the blue toad. From the cloud, appeared the temporary leader of the Kingdom, Kamek. He floated on his broomstick, staring daggers to the group of the remaining toads. They began sweating nervously as the Magikoopa carefully examined them before shrugging and flying off to terrorize some other toads.

Mario, along with the blue toad, poked his head from behind the pile. He looked to the group with a confused look, his head tilted to the side a bit.

“If Kamek catches you breaking the rules, who knows what happens to you?” the blue toad exclaimed. “And you’re breaking the first one!”

“No entering or exiting the kingdom without permission,” the green toad finished for him. “Your brother is not going to be too happy when he finds out about this.” A question popped up in Mario is mind. “Do you guys by any chance know where he went? He asked.

The purple toad shook his head. “No, he had more ‘important things’ to do, whatever that means,” he shuddered.

Mr. L wasn't around. Mario needed to find Luigi so they could report back to Peach. “Don't worry guys, I'll put a stop to this. I'll help free your kingdom as soon as I can.” He said with a nod, starting to walk back to Daisy's castle to find Luigi.

~~~~~

Luigi clumsily stumbled down the castle, clearly in distress. He needed to find Mario and fast. Sure he didn't exactly like being ignored in the past, but this was no better. He didn't like the looks. He didn't like the fear he caused. He didn't like not being able to simply say hi to someone. He wanted to go back. Back to being ignored. Back to being just a shadow.

He tried his hardest to block them out but he knew they were there. He felt like a monster and he didn't even do anything. His breathing quickens as he held back tears. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control. He couldn't take it.

Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to look to know whose it was. Almost instantly, most of his stress evaporated. He turned around to see Mario giving him a light smile. 

It was going to be okay.

~~~~~ Chapter 13 - Chapter 15 Cover

[buckybabybaby]

Mr Hollywood (Chapter 14)

Summary: Bucky Barnes, an underpaid teaching assistant in a small English village, dreams of a movie career back in his home country of America. He finally gets the break he's always wanted, and if it wasn't for you, his best friend, he wouldn't have been able to take it.

But is that fact enough to save your friendship when it's tested by the pressures of Hollywood?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Word count: 1842

Chapter summary: The city that never sleeps with the man that really needs to...

Warnings: None!

Previous: Chapter 13

Mr Hollywood Masterlist | Main Masterlist

*****

Waking up the next day, the first thing you're aware of is how warm you are. Cracking one eye open, it takes you a second to remember where you are, the bedroom looking different in the morning light. The rays shining through the thin curtains and the heavy quilt are a little too much now you're awake.

Attempting to move the duvet away, it comes as quite the shock when it resists, mumbling something from behind you, the weight across your centre tightening and pulling you back into the middle of the bed. Twisting your head to the side, you're met with a head full of messy brunette hair, and your body freezes at the realisation that Bucky has cuddled up to you in his sleep. Granted, just one arm over the covers, but it's still much more intimate than you've been with him before and you don't want him to know you're awake in case it becomes awkward. His breathing is slow and even against your shoulder, still dead to the world, and you relax back into his hold knowing how deeply he sleeps. He regularly slept through his alarm when you worked together, and many a time you had had to use the spare key to enter his flat and chivvy him out of bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, you allow yourself to enjoy his embrace. You feel well rested, the aches from yesterday gone and with the blankets folded down away from you, you're content in your comfortably hazy state.

At least you are until your tummy rumbles.

Bucky shuffles beside you, rolling onto his back and releasing you from his grip, allowing you to slip out of bed and tip toe out to the hall. Closing the door quietly as you leave him be, you take a moment to admire the sight, how peaceful he looks sleeping in his own bed for once. The first half of filming for season two has just wrapped, and it's no secret that the hours are just as brutal as they were for the first, the actors pushed to their limit in the pursuit of keeping to budget.

Bucky needs all the sleep he can get.

Alone in the unfamiliar house, you slowly walk down the corridor, not wanting to open the wrong door and invade someone’s privacy. Especially not on your first day here. Following the stairs down to the next floor, you find the kitchen, an airy open plan space with the living room off to the right.

A box of your favourite cereal sits on the counter near the fridge, the sticky note with your name written in Bucky's handwriting stuck on the side bringing a smile to your face.

“How did you sleep?”

Whipping around as the voice startles you, you find Sophia stood at the table with her plate of toast and orange juice.

“Don't skulk around like that!”

“I'm not skulking, looks like you've got something to hide. Was the bed comfy enough?”

Turning back to make your breakfast, you ignore her and her smirk.

“Fine. Don't tell me. But just so you know, the bathroom is in-between Bucky's room and Day's so we wouldn't be able to hear anything if you wanted-”

“Sophia! Stop, please. And anyway,” You point at the clock. “Why are you up so early?”

“I'm not that tired actually, thanks to you keeping Benjamin entertained on the plane. What about you?”

“Hungry.”

“I'll let you get back to your food then.”

The breakfast bar seats are surprisingly comfortable, and you happily sit in the kitchen checking your phone as you eat and wait for Bucky to finally make it out of bed.

“Y/N.” His voice is scratchy when he walks in. “There you are.”

“Morning.” You push a bowl towards him as he takes a seat opposite you. “I poured you some cornflakes.”

“You should stay over more often,” He grins as he adds milk and takes a spoonful.

“And you should lend me your tops more often. This is the softest thing I've ever worn.”

Gaze skimming up your legs to where his t-shirt falls across your top half, he pauses halfway through a mouthful. Something in the air changes as he puts down his cutlery, breakfast forgotten as he stands up again.

You can't look away as he approaches. “Bucky?”

He shakes his head. “I could get used to this. You, here with me. Waking up together.”

“Bucky.”

“Well, if you stayed in bed long enough, that is,” He goes on, coming to a stop before you as you slide off your seat.

“And I could really get used to seeing you in my clothes.” His fingers skim the hem, centimetres away from your thighs. “You're so pretty in this.”

“I'm not,” You protest weakly.

He chuckles. “Still so shy with compliments. I guess I'll just have to keep repeating them until you believe me.”

Winding his arm around your waist, he brings you between his legs and you look down, chest tight.

He tilts his head to catch your eye again, “Y/N, I want to-”

The door opens behind you and you step away from Bucky instinctively, not missing the way his hands reach out for you.

Dayton's eyes narrow as he assesses the situation he's walked in on. “Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Bucky spits at the same time, glaring at his brother as you wish you could become invisible.

Shifting your weight from one foot to another as Dayton grabs a glass from the cupboard and fills it up with water, your sides tingle with the ghost of Bucky's touch.

“Well, better get this to Sophia.”

Dayton winks at you as he leaves, making you even more flustered.

When he's gone Bucky's attention is back on you but the moment has past, and before the tension becomes to much you change the subject.

“Erm, if you have nothing else important to do, could you come shopping with me? Or not. It's fine if you're busy, I can go alone.”

“Of course I'll come, I said I would. And we can't have you getting lost on your first day can we?”  You nod as you laugh at the thought. “I'll go get dressed.”

*****

Getting ready doesn't take very long as you can only put yesterdays outfit back on. Standing next to Bucky by the front door as he fixes his hat, you stare at your reflection in the mirror and wish you'd worn something more stylish for the flight over. Next to him in his bespoke outfit you feel plain and uninteresting.

You feel even more under-dressed when you hear a set of footsteps coming down from the second floor, and then there in front of you is the woman you've heard so much about. Seeming like she's just stepped out of a fashion magazine, her immaculate hair and perfectly fitting dress-suit has you shrinking away, intimidated despite her friendly demeanour.

“Aren't you going to introduce me, Bucky?”

“Oh, yeah, 'course. Mum, this is my-err, my, my Y/N. Y/N.”

You flush, smiling at her through your embarrassment. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Barnes.”

She doesn't notice how tense you've become, kissing one cheek then the other. “So lovely to finally meet you Y/N. Oh! You're even more beautiful in real life! And it's Winnifred.”

Bucky giggles as you look to him helplessly.

“George! Come meet Y/N.”

Mr Barnes trails in, just as welcoming as his wife. The resemblance to his sons is remarkable even with the softness of laughter lines added to his face over the years.

He clasps your hand in both of his. “Glad you finally found some time to visit. Bucky's been excited for your arrival all week. Hasn't stopped going on about it.”

“Dad,” Bucky groans as you rise your eyebrows over at him, amused.

“As we all have, obviously.” His dad tries to save himself.

“Right, well we'll have to leave you kids alone now, work calls,” Winnifred apologies as her phone buzzes and she grabs her bag.

“Kids?” Bucky mutters with a roll of his eyes.

“You'll always be my baby, darling,” She says, flicking the brim of his hat so it falls off and she can ruffle his hair.

Smoothing it back down as he blushes, he opens the door. “All right, definitely time for you to leave!”

“See you two later. Oh, we should all have lunch! Not today though.” She thinks as George coaxes her out the house. “I'll text you our schedule and we'll make it work.”

Bucky's dad waves back at the two of you. “See you both soon.”

The door swings shut behind them and Bucky turns to you, grinning bashfully.

“Sorry they're so full on.”

“They're very sweet.”

“Suppose they are. I owe them a lot.” He collects his hat from the floor and resits it upon his head. “Ready to hit the shops?”

*****

Shopping is exhausting. Not only is New York enormous, with every store possible spread across miles of avenues and boulevards, but you've never shopped from American brands before, so you have no idea which one to start with. Bucky isn't much help, you have to pull him away from the designer shops more than once during the day. He says it's not a problem, he can pay, but that's the last thing you want since he paid for you to come over. You don't let him get lunch either, insisting on trying out a little toasted sandwich van parked near one of the entrance gates for Central Park.

Finding a bench near a fountain, you sit close together and tear into the paper bag full of melted cheese and hot vegetables between warm bread.

Once the food is finished, you watch the other tourists and native New Yorkers for a while. After so many years of daydreaming about visiting, it's surreal to actually be here, the three week break Bucky's managed to bag for himself stretches before you like the summers holidays did when you where a child. Compared to the snatched moments you've shared in the last year, it feels endless.

This is the happiest you've been for months. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Thank you for forgiving me so I could.”

You watch the water cascade down the statues together for a few more minutes, arms brushing, until you can no longer take it.

“Bucky?” He hums. You take a deep breath, acting braver than you feel. “Dayton thinks we should talk. Do you think he's right?”

“I think he's an interfering piece of-”

“No you don't. And you're not answering the question.”

Bucky sighs, repositioning himself on the bench so he can look at you directly, his face a mix of emotions. “I wanted to talk this morning, before Dayton barged in like the-.”

You interrupt. “How about we talk now instead?”

“All right.” Standing up, he holds out his hand for you to take, squeezing it gently when you let him help you up. “Come on, I know the perfect place to go.”

*****

Chapter 15

Sorry I left it there... ;) As always, thank you for reading! <3